


Frail Equilibrium (2.0)

by JadedPandaGirl



Series: Witchy Bussiness [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Companionable Snark, Dante (Devil May Cry) - Freeform, Demons, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Horror, Humor, I flattened canon with a rolling pin and used cookie cutters to make what I wanted, Mild Language, Original Character(s), Teenaged Protagonists, Teenagers, Tess Templar (Original Character) - Freeform, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-18 04:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 158,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14846003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadedPandaGirl/pseuds/JadedPandaGirl
Summary: Before his days as a seasoned demon hunter, before he defeated Mundus, and before he conquered Temen Ni Gru, Dante was a cocky little punk. A little down on his luck in his teens, he takes up residence in an apartment block run by a family with a few odd secrets. Particularly his troublesome red-head neighbor. Then again, Tess Templar has some secrets of her own. And while they try to sort out the mess they call 'a friendship', the city around them is spiraling into insanity.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A second version, edited and cleaned up almost ten years after [the original publication.](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3909259/2/Frail-Equilibrium)
> 
> This is the mothership, where my fanfic verse started and where Dante's perilous relationship with a certain small, ginger witch began. It's been cleaned up, edited properly (I hope) and primped up for a new sweep of readers. It's a completed story and I will attempt to post it all within the week.

Roy hated winter. Every year, when the cold weather descended upon the city, he had to battle with the oppressive sensation that came with it and that particular year, it felt worse than ever.

As far as his memory served him, the city hadn’t seen an October this cold in many years. And it was a bitter kind of cold, with wind that bit into flesh with needle teeth and a gray sky that seemed to swallow the sun whole every day behind clouds with no promise of improvement.

He shuddered under his thick, shabby coat and looked up from sweeping the steps leading up to the front door, examining the empty street with a frown as the few street-lights were finally coming to a weak-willed life. With the longer nights and less daylight creeping into the time-zone, the middle-aged man felt oddly nostalgic. He cast a glance up to the building he took care of: The aged boarding house of small apartments stood quiet and unassuming under the late evening sky.

It was like looking up at an old friend, really; both the building and he had endured many past years of cold winter-times together. It was a sturdy old thing, three stories high, dating back to the late sixties when Roy had first arrived here, while the entire neighborhood was still under development and expanding. He sighed a little, reminiscent of those times. Faded wall-art and the optimistic slogans of that long-gone era were nearly erased from walls around the neighborhood, gnawed away like a dog's bone from the weather, graffiti and the occasional bullet-hole. Times changed. People changed. The city changed.  

Just as a smile from the memories of those times threatened to spread on his face, Roy grimaced briefly and resumed sweeping, the broom ushering the last bits of dirt off the steps and into the street. Then he climbed the short flight of stairs to the door. Thinking of the past made him feel miserable. He thought to himself that he had lived long enough to see this once hopeful place descend into a seedy corner of an already bad city, where the worst traits of humanity were rapidly snuffing out any hope one might have had. He saw it reflected on the building’s aged, graying sand color wash, blotched with darker spots where humidity had corroded the original paint.

Perhaps it was long due a refresh… if the times got better. 

He wiped that depressing thought off his mind. He had other things to attend to in the present, like the leaky pipe in the basement or the cracked window sill on the second floor that let a hell of a draft in. He pushed the front door shut behind him and pawed at his pockets to make sure the keys were there. He glanced around the lobby and sighed. Empty as always. It had been some time since they last had a tenant, most of the one-room apartments languishing in disuse. He eyed the front desk, sheltered besides the stairway with its comfortable chair and huffed with irritable longing.

“Roy.”

He turned around slowly at the bidding. The old woman stood column-straight and rigid at the door to her private quarters, off the side of the lobby.

“Magda,” he acknowledged.

“I need you to fetch me some things,” she said flatly.

The man narrowed his eyes. “You’re worried.”

She eyed him distastefully. “Of course I’m worried,” she snapped back.

“And yet you don’t know what’s happening.”

“I suppose you do?” she replied sharply.

His nostrils flared. “I don’t. Yet,” he confessed.

“Then do not tax me with your disapproval, Roy,” she said. “And do not think I don’t know what you and _she_ get up to behind my back.” She drew herself up straighter. “I’m old, not senile.”

Roy scowled at her. “I don’t owe you anything,” he grunted. “I’ve warned you before, Magda. I understand trying to protect her but you’ve been flirting with cruelty lately and I’m starting to lose my patience.”

“She understands nothing,” Magda snapped. “She understands nothing of this and her… her difficulties. What she does isn’t natural, even for us.”

“Natural is overrated,” Roy scoffed, a sardonic smile playing on his face. “This place is standing on a knife-edge, Magda, and one of these days you’ll not be able to hold things just so. I’ve warned you before.”

“Stop,” she ordered. “Go about your business. I have to think.”

And yet, she looked troubled when he turned away.


	2. House of Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where a young demon hunter finds some unusual lodging.

The boy narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the barman, a greasy-haired scarecrow of a man in a shirt and vest almost too fancy for the little dive – which still had the decency to _not_ sell alcohol to someone underage. The boy had to hand it to the barman: he knew how to tell kids even when they didn’t quite look like kids.

“You better not be sending me to some stupid hole in the wall,” the boy warned, eyes narrowing.

“It’s a _boarding house_ , it’s just what you want,” the barman drawled, toweling a glass until it squeaked. “You’re what, maybe seventeen? You want privacy and a place to stay in this part of town that ain’t a motel that goes by the hour; that’s your best bet. The owners are a bit funny, though.”

The boy wrinkled his nose but pocketed the scrap of paper with the address and polished off the remains of his pub-grub pizza and the root beer the barman had agreed to give him. Licking the pizza grease off his fingers, the boy reached into a pocket of the red, weathered duster he was wearing and pulled out some crumpled bills to pay with. The barman took them absently but as he smoothed out the crumpled paper, he gave the kid a startled look.

“Hey… these have blood on ‘em!”

The boy was already off his bar stool, picking up a guitar case and an oversized duffel bag which he slung over his shoulder. “Yeah, cut myself and stuck my hand in my pocket! Your problem now.”

He left the barman muttering curses as he moseyed out of the little bar to brave the cold outside. Although used to cold temperatures, the boy irritably shrugged into his coat against the chill and wished he’d been stuck somewhere across the country with warm beaches, instead. But this place… there was something about it, something that drew him in like a buzzard to a carcass.

His baggy, green-brown pants, black sweater and the red coat shouldn’t have been enough protection against the cold, but he refused to shiver. Only the wind blowing directly into his face made him squint his eyes slightly, to keep them from stinging, while his white hair flopped about his head in the wind. He could see his breath turn to a slight haze in the cold air. It took him about half an hour to find the building whose address he now had on that scrap of paper, navigating this damned confusing city and cursing whoever it was that had decided it’s higgledy-piggledy development.

 _“I’m gonna freeze my ass off before I find the place,”_ he thought.

He was still somewhat doubtful as to whether the place that barman sent him to would suit his needs – or even accept him. Most places were less than keen to house rough-around-the-edges teenagers and most that did were quick to turn him out soon. However, he needed long-term digs and he was willing to give it a try, even overlooking the barman’s comment that the owners of the place were a bit eccentric.

Whatever _that_ meant.

When he finally found the right address, he stopped and looked up at the building. The neighborhood would’ve been fairly well-to-do, once upon a time, brownstones all in a line. Most were in a pretty sorry state now, shuttered up and dark, with chipped facades and boarded up windows and doors. The building in question seemed to be in a slightly better condition than the rest. It had an eerie feel of age and wear about it, as many old buildings in that neighborhood did. But there were lights on the ground floor and the front door step, and the door itself seemed unsealed.

His eyes lit up a tiny bit. About time!

 _“Open door; open invitation!”_ he thought.

He breezed past the ‘no solicitors’ sign and pushed the door experimentally and when it swung open, he let himself inside. Something was up with the door because it stuck slightly against the floor and then opened with a soft crack.

Just as he crossed the threshold, the boy stopped briefly and stared at the floor, then up at the door frame overhead. He’d felt a funny little feeling all the way up his spine and dancing across his shoulders. He rolled both shoulders and hitched his duffel bag further up his shoulder and took note of the feeling.

It was _interesting_ ; like he’d maybe walked through a bug-zapper.

He stepped into an empty lobby with an unattended doorman’s desk beside a stairway leading up; a rounded arch opened into what looked like a lounge off to the left. A door on the opposite side was tightly shut. His sharp hearing picked up the soft echoes of music from somewhere above – it sounded like rock, but old school -- a radio station. He made a beeline for the abandoned counter and dropped his bag at his feet then carefully deposited the guitar case next to it.

Irritably, he found that the zipper had come undone, exposing the spiked hilt of a heavy broadsword. He bent down and quickly tried to tug the zipper closed. The light from the overhead lamps glinted hard off the cross-guard, adorned with a horned skull. The eye sockets, dull and dark and empty, stared eternally as the canvas guitar case was sealed shut over them.

There was no bell at the desk so the boy called out impatiently.

“Hey, anyone around ‘ere?” he called, his voice carrying through the space.

Faint sounds from behind a door just beyond the staircase told him someone should be about. He leaned against the counter and of the desk and took a better look at the lobby around him.

It was decent, tidy and probably even a little welcoming. It had all the hallmarks of an old-style student boarding house. Sure, the graying rug stretching from the door to the counter bore obvious signs of wear and some burns from cigarette ashes, but the floor seemed to get regular cleaning. Tony got off the counter and took a few steps towards the staircase when a floorboard creaked under his foot. He paused to see if anyone had heard the noise, and then took his foot off the offending board. The ceiling could use a re-plastering, but the walls had a modest, ashen color-wash and the windows were all spotless. The boy got the feeling that this place, for all its age, was well looked after.

The counter in front of him was neatly arranged, except for a glass with some sweet smelling liquor left beside a paperback book—a Stephen King novel—placed face down, open on the desk. Someone had been reading here just a while ago, so his presence would not go unnoticed.

Just as he started to relax, the rattle of the front door let him know that he hadn’t closed it properly. He went over and tried to shut it but either swollen wood or loose hinges made that difficult. The merest cold breeze from outside made it rattle. He abandoned the effort; last thing he needed was to annoy the owners by accidentally making their door worse. He turned his attention to the door beyond the staircase as it opened halfway. A man leaned out of it, all graying hair and weathered features.

The boy watched him open his mouth to speak but then stopping and just staring at him, in what looked like slight bewilderment. The man’s eyebrows creased together and his head cocked slightly.

“What’d you want?” the man demanded at last, with a faint accent like British. “Get the hell off my property if you’re selling something, we’re not interested.” 

The boy shrugged, the veiled threat rolling off him like water. “Hey, just getting outta the cold,” he said with a shrug. “I want a room or whatever.”

The man hesitated for a moment. He seemed to be taking stock of the boy. Then he huffed, shoulders drooping. “Oh. Well, alright. Give me a moment; I’ll be right with you. Sit tight. Don’t wander around.”

He then vanished back into the door, which he shut behind him, and the boy heard the heavy clump of boots on stairs. A basement, probably. To the boy, he looked about forty, maybe a bit older and he cracked a small smirk at the man’s presumption that he could boss the boy around for long.

While he waited, he slowly paced with his hands in his pockets, and looked around again. The boy was already taking something of a liking to the place. It was quiet, certainly, but that meant he could get the privacy he wanted. His eye was caught by a photo frame hanging on the wall beside the desk and he stepped closer for a better look. It was the photo of a young woman with a complexion like honey, long, wavy black hair and eyes filled with laughter set into a pretty face. She looked young.

The picture had been taken in this very lobby, probably. The boy smiled a little, hoping the girl lived there now. She sat on the very same wide staircase beside the desk, laughing at the camera, while her delicate fingers twined together and hugged her knees. She was clad in a short, denim dress over black tights. She had a sand-colored sash around her waist and a purple band in her hair.

The boy cocked his head a little, looking at the photo. _“Huh, pretty lady. Kinda reminds me of—“_

He dropped the thought like a hot potato and frowned at himself. He didn’t need to dwell on those thoughts now. The door behind him rattled again from the cold wind and he irritably glanced at it, flicking some hair off his face. How long would that man make him wait?

Just as he ended that thought, the door of the basement creaked again and the boy eagerly turned around to catch the man step out, shut it behind him and turn a lock.

Now the boy grew momentarily tense; the man was almost a full head taller than the boy – and the kid rarely misjudged the size of people. The man was wiping his hands with a piece of cloth and the boy observed that, for someone with a slim build and that age, the man had large arms and hands that were used to hard work and maybe, fighting. He was all nervous strength and walked like a panther. He was even wearing a slightly dirty red plaid shirt, sleeves rolled back, just to drive home the image of a tall-tale lumberjack.

The boy blinked at him, having the feeling that this was no ordinary landlord, after all. There was something about him, especially in the way the man was sizing him up – shamelessly so, in fact. The man stepped behind the desk and the boy stood straighter, stuffing his hands in his pockets boldly, unwilling to be in any way intimidated and show it. He returned the gaze bravely. Though not particularly old, the inherent air of the man was one of authority and confidence and his sharp gray eyes gave the boy the impression of many years of hard experience. He didn’t strike the boy as threatening, but rather the presence of one who was used to giving commands.

“So, a place to stay,” the man started. “What’s your name, kid?”

The boy took offense to that and scowled but bit his tongue. “Tony. _Tony Redgrave_ ,” he said flatly.

The man narrowed his eyes at him from across the desk, hands braced on the wood. “You look like trouble, Tony Redgrave,” he said and a small, bold smile creased his lips. “ _Are_ you trouble?”

Now Tony felt his corners of the mouth tweak too. “Depends, what kind of trouble do you mean?”

“Trouble that gives my house a bad name,” the man drawled. “Trouble that starts elsewhere and gets dragged back here. This is no neighborhood of angels but I keep my house clean. I’ll tell you up front, if you drag in anything like drugs, you can walk right back out.”

 _“Straightforward, I see,”_ Tony thought and then put on his best little cocky smile. “Does pizza count?”

The man’s eyebrows twitched at the audacity but he showed nothing else, just drew himself up to his full height and favored Tony with an impressive glare.

“I don’t joke about that matter. I’ve seen enough in my time to be wary and to know just how to handle snotty-nosed punks who think they can bend the rules,” the man said sharply. “And that’s with buckshot and a swift kick to the street.”

He braced on the desk again and looked Tony in the eye. “I never question what tenants do outside or inside the place as long as they don’t cause any trouble. Follow that simple rule and this will be your home. Don’t, and you and I will _have words_.”

Tony sighed. Privately he wanted to test that thinly veiled threat just to shut this old man up for his gall to try and boss around what he had no way of understanding – it’d happen eventually, though, it always did. However, he still understood the man’s caution. He’d seen the neighborhood. With his luck, Tony never expected to stumble onto the one decent landlord in the city who took some pride in his building’s reputation. The place seemed nice. It was reasonable that he’d want to keep it that way. Tony understood reputations. It probably meant less trouble for him, too.

He stared the man straight in the eye. “No, I get you. I’m not into anything illegal, dodgy or even slightly naughty.”

Behind him, the door rattled again, hard, as if to punctuate his solemn declaration and a cold breeze brushed the back of his neck, making him shiver and scowl. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw the door to the far side move but when he looked it was perfectly still. Was it open ajar previously? There had been a soft creak.

“Well then, in that case…” the man said, with a content nod.

He sat down at the desk with a significantly less assertive demeanor and when he put on a pair of thin glasses, Tony almost could be fooled into thinking he looked… paternal. Or at the very least, actually amicable. The man rummaged around his desk drawers and withdrew a couple of logbooks and a sheaf of papers. He opened one logbook and rapidly added some notes to it, the pen gliding over the page. He put a couple of papers in front of Tony, with a pen.

“Read through this form, _carefully,_ then fill it in, kid,” he said, all business as he picked up the glass he seemed to have left earlier and took a sip.

Tony picked up the pen and just glanced over the document – a basic lease, he was familiar with these, the rent wasn’t at all bad – and then gave the man a hard stare. “My name is Tony. I’m not a kid. Call me dude, bud, guy, sir – heck, call me son if you feel like it, just don’t call me _kid,”_ he said assertively and rapidly scribbled in the form.

Again, the door rattled from the wind, harder than before, frustrating the boy as he finished. He turned it over to the man and then rifled around his pockets, pulling out a few dollar bills to try and get together his first rent. After some hesitation, he also placed a couple of antique-looking, tarnished coins on the counter, hoping they’d interest the old man.

The man raised an eyebrow at him momentarily but then chuckled, in a rather warm, friendly way before studying the form. “This is good,” he said kindly. “Alright, ‘dude’. You can call me Roy. I run and maintain this cozy little wreck. Welcome to our building.”

He offered his hand over the counter and despite himself, Tony actually shook it. Roy’s hand was big and warm and his grip firm but not aggressive. The door ruined the moment by rattling rather violently once more and Tony saw Roy scowl momentarily at it before he began to copy some things into another logbook quickly.

Then the door suddenly shut softly with a loud click, as if forced shut and the rattling finally ceased.

“Thank you, Tess. I’ll have a look at the door later,” Roy said, barely glancing over his glasses at someone behind Tony for a moment, then resumed writing. 

Tony glanced over his shoulder. A girl maybe his age stood leaning against the door, arms folded loosely over her chest; a flat chest, he observed. She boldly stared right back at him. She was thin, a fact probably emphasized by her loose-fitting black hoodie. And her demeanor looked nothing like the pretty woman in the photo. She had a very sharp and inquisitive appearance, like a bird of prey.

She regarded him coldly and all he offered was a glance, enough to take her appearance in. She was probably another tenant there.

Tony looked away, back at Roy who was finishing up the paperwork to officially allow him to stay there but to his irritation, he felt her detached stare on his back.

 _“Frosty little bitch…”_ he thought, tapping his boot on the floor.

Roy handed him some papers, carefully folded and then looked at the coins; after a momentary hesitation, he eyed Tony with a very ‘may I?’ expression, to which the boy nodded. Roy picked up one of the coins on the counter and examined both sides. The girl looked on without talking.

“Hmm… interesting,” he muttered, turning the coin over and over. “Very interesting.”

He glanced at Tony once more, then over at the girl briefly, looking a bit thoughtful.

“It worth anything?” Tony asked impatiently. “If it pays off any rent you can keep it.”

Roy put the one coin down and examined another. “I know something of old coins,” he admitted. “And these do have a decent amount of value. Are you sure you want to just hand them over? I’d say you can cover about four months of your rent, plus bills.”

“Sweet, put that in writing and it’s a deal,” Tony said quickly. He didn’t think he’d stay there _that_ long but you never knew. Still, it was nice of Roy to be honest about the potential value of the coins.

Roy looked a bit dubious but collected the two coins all the same. “I’d like to hear where you got these, sometime. You don’t look like a typical collector.”

Tony grunted noncommittally but nodded. “Some other time.”

He heard soft footfalls and then the girl approached the counter, hands tucked into the front pocket of her shirt and had a look at the coins with a blank, disinterested look. Then she looked over the desk at the logbook.

“You should give him 2F,” she said in a dry, flat manner.

Up close, he realized she was about a head shorter than him and pale. Her face was covered in freckles; at least they suited her deep red hair. She had a well-shaped face with soft lines but it was ruined by her frosty demeanor, which Tony found oddly amusing. She glanced up at him only briefly, but he could tell, to his amusement, that she was sizing him up. What exactly was she playing at? She must have been Roy’s relative or something like that, to be so bold with the business. 

Roy looked up at her, over his glasses, "Eh? What was that?”

She gave the same, flat response, “Give him 2F.”

“Why? What’s wrong with 2A?” he protested.

“2F doesn’t have leaks,” the girl replied.

She looked up at Tony who gave her a small smile, to which she had no reaction, and then she walked back towards the door from which she had entered earlier and shut it behind her quietly.

“What?! _Again_?” Roy groaned.

Tony shrugged. He could probably thank her later. Right now he was just glad that he had secured a place to live in after bumming around for more time than he wanted to admit.

He returned his attention to Roy in an expectant way. “2F, then?”

Roy frowned momentarily at the scene that passed and then shook his head slowly, tossing a pair of keys on a ring to Tony.

“Yep. Pick up your stuff, son,” he sighed. “Follow me.”

Roy got out from behind the counter and beckoned Tony to follow, who hastened to pick up his guitar case and duffel bag, awkwardly slung it over his shoulder and clambered up the stairs after him. Roy was nattering on and Tony actually cracked a small smile. The old man’s rambling felt oddly welcoming.

“So you’re on the second floor, apartment F – faces the street, hope you don’t mind the noise. You ah, might run into Tess a lot,” Roy sighed. “She lives up here too. Don’t get too fresh with her, by the way. You might not wake up in the morning. She gets nasty when you get on her bad side, all hell breaks loose.”

Tony just smirked. _“Hell,”_ he thought with a quiet chuckle. _“If only he knew. She’s what, less than 100 pounds soaking wet. What could she possibly do to me?”_

Still, close proximity to the little ice princess. They’d barely spoke and she already liked him!

“So she your daughter or what?” Tony quipped.

“Hmm? Oh no. She’s the granddaughter of the owner,” Roy said. “They uh… have some differences. You’re our only real tenant right now.”

Tony cocked his head a little. _“So the gal in the photo doesn’t live here… and I doubt she’s the granny, photo ain’t old enough.”_     

Roy interrupted his thoughts as he bounded up the last few steps and into a corridor lined with doors. Tony could see a terrace door at one end of the hallway, opening to what should be the back of the apartment complex. He also took note of a _communal_ bathroom marked out among the doors. It should be interesting, sharing it with the sour-faced girl, but he’d had worse.

“Speaking of the old lady… just try to keep out of her way, if you see her,” Roy warned. “Magda Templar isn’t to be trifled with. That old battle axe never lets you forget it if you do. Compared to her, Tess is just an angry kitten.”

He stopped at a door and tapped it gently. “Right, here’s your hole. It’s a bit bare but you’re welcome to the lounge and kitchen downstairs. Make yourself at home. Keep in mind, you take care of your own trash, your groceries and your laundry—machines are in the basement, you get there from the lobby. If anything needs fixing, come down and let me know. Don’t try to do anything yourself. It’s best I do any repairs. If you need anything, eh, I’m around. Follow tool sounds, I always seem to be fixing this or that,” he chuckled. “Or talk to Tess, if you have to. She might be cranky, but she’s not that bad. Welcome, ‘mister’ Tony, hope you enjoy your stay,” he said with a cheeky grin.

Tony smiled in spite of himself. “Thanks, Roy.”

He watched as the landlord took his leave down the stairs, hands in his pockets. The old man wasn’t so bad and Tony felt he might actually like him.

He unlocked the door to his new apartment. The shuttered windows made it dark and it felt a bit cold. When he pushed the shutters open for one window he found it to be two rooms thrown into one by means of an arched frame. It was furnished simply and one room would serve as a general living room and basic kitchen with a small fridge and hot plate along with a sofa, extra chair and small table, while the other end was a basic bedroom with a full-sized bed, a night-table and a chest of drawers. Like Roy had said, a bit spartan but not bad. Frankly, it was better than a lot of his previous accommodations.

Tony then had a quick peek at the communal bathroom too. It was a bit small and cramped, but at least it was perfectly clean and had a working shower stall. There was a linen closet off to the side with sheets and towels. They smelled nice, like proper clean laundry. There was a faint smell of citrus coming from the stall – it smelled girly.

He grabbed some sheets and went back into his apartment and shut the door behind him. He carefully put the guitar case down in one corner of the bedroom and scooted the bag by the drawer chest. He tossed one sheet onto the bed, then stood straight and dropped on the bed on his back. It creaked heavily as he sank into the mattress and he let a small sigh of satisfaction.

“ _Finally, a decent, cheap place to live in!”_ He inhaled slightly and smiled. How long had it been since he’d lived somewhere with clean sheets?

He stretched lavishly and then stared at the ceiling for a while, planning his next move. His stomach made an audible sound of protest and settled things. It was time to stock up on food.

He picked himself up from the bed and headed out and down the stairs and into the lobby yet again. It was quiet but for the soft hum of the radiator in the basement below. Roy was nowhere to be seen as he came down the stairs, he saw Tess sitting at the desk instead, writing in one of the logbooks. So she really was involved in the running of the place. She must’ve heard him on the stairs but she paid him no attention and carried on with her task.

She didn’t even look up when he hovered by the desk over her. She wrote neatly with a cheap ballpoint pen but Tony noted that she winced a little, probably because of the bandages wrapped around her right hand and wrist. She looked much more serene now than she had earlier, though a bit detached. He braced his elbows on the counter in front of the desk and grinned down at her.

“Thanks for the room, it’s perfect,” he said smoothly.

She stopped writing, closed the logbook over her hand as a kind of bookmark and looked right at him. She was sizing him up again and her eyebrows creased together slightly over the cool but inquisitive look in her eyes. Now up close, Tony could appreciate that her eyes were a clear green. He also sensed something… strange about her that he couldn’t quite place. Something about her scent, too. All together the effect was like a funny little feeling in the pit of his stomach that made him want to know why. And that would entail prodding her.   

“Sure thing,” she replied flatly after a moment’s hesitation. She then looked like she was going to resume her work. “Do you need anything?”

Her icy manner didn’t deter him, in fact he thought it’d be fun to try and rattle her, see what she was about.

“A little favor. Where can a guy like me get some supplies? Food and such,” he asked, trying to sound polite.

She blinked at him and looked thoughtful for a moment, then wedged the pen in the logbook as a bookmark and flexed her bandaged hand gently. “Well, there is a general store a few blocks away, but it’s tucked behind some buildings. I need something myself so I guess I’ll walk you.”

He smirked a little as she got up from behind the desk, put on a jacket from the nearby hanger and headed for the front door without much ceremony. A blast of cold air burst through as she opened it, whipping her hair back and she shrugged against it.

“Keep up, I won’t wait all day for you,” she huffed and stepped outside.

Tony sauntered out after her, still smirking even as he noticed that funny little feeling as soon as he crossed through the doorway.

She sounded less cross than before but still frosty and wary. He had to hand it to her though; agreeing to take a walk with a total stranger was gutsy. Either she was nicer than she let on, or was curious. People usually were, when he showed up. He tucked his hands in his pockets as the wind made his hair take unpredictable lashes at his face, this time less irritated at the cold, which he noticed bothered his guide more than it did him. He watched her hair flutter in the wind and studied her figure as they walked along the narrow streets. Either she was a late bloomer or simply _really_ that skinny. Lithe and light-footed but like a rail, really; couldn’t weight more than a kitten.  

 _“Not entirely without perks, though…”_ he thought. _“Her hair’s pretty, legs look nice and a firm—“_

He fought off an urge to smile and chided himself. Roy had literally just told him not to get fresh with the girl and here he was, judging the girl’s ass. What business did he have, doing that, when her cold attitude ruined any charms she might’ve had?

“When you’re done staring at my butt,” she sighed with some contempt, “the store’s right around this corner. Just ignore the lady at the tobacco stand, she’s nuts.”

The store, a squat little structure, was nestled between two older buildings and at present, seemed rather quiet. It wasn’t too big or fancy but it seemed to service the neighborhood well enough, its sign indicating that it included a pharmacy and a tobacco stand beside the expected general store.

Tony feigned offense. “I wasn’t staring at your butt!” he chuckled. “If I wanted some action, there’s better people than a twig like you out there!” 

The girl stopped suddenly and after rolling her eyes, directed a cold, hard stare at him, with a glint of anger. “So you got a name or can I just call you jerkface?” she muttered and then stormed up to the store’s front door to push it open sharply.

“Call me Tony,” he shrugged, still amused at her anger.  

She entered the store with an angry step and he followed. As soon as they crossed the doorway Tony took in the modest little convenience store. It was serviceable enough for the neighborhood. He glanced to the side and caught an old-style tobacco stand right next to the door, manned by a white-haired, elderly lady who raised her glassy eyes from her knitting. She squinted and as soon as her eyes met Tess, she previously benign expression turned into real loathing and her nose wrinkled as though someone had stuck decomposing garbage under her nostrils – even a vein on her forehead bulged out from her indignation.  

Tony watched with interest as the woman all but hissed as the girl passed in front of her. His Spanish was rusty but he was pretty sure the woman was muttering some particularly bile-loaded curses at the girl and calling her a ‘witch’, upon which an employee from the pharmacy counter nearby leaned out and glared at her apprehensively, telling her in Spanish to shut up sharply.

 _“Witch, huh…”_ he thought.

Tess made a good show of ignoring the hostility but Tony saw her head dip slightly and her shoulders bunch together defensively. He even caught her mumbling under her breath.

“Old bag…”

She abandoned him to the joys of a food run and made her way to the pharmacy counter. Tony had already started browsing the shelves nearby but he overheard the proceedings. The clerk there was much friendlier.

“Hi Tess, what happened there?” he asked kindly as she lay her bandaged hand on the counter.

“Hello. I burned myself and it’s killing me. I’d like some kind of ointment for burns,” she said. She seemed to have regrouped from the old lady’s verbal assault.

“Let’s have a quick look, see what it needs,” the man said and gently peeled back the bandage. “Oh that does look pretty bad. How did it happen?” he asked and turned around to pick a box of balm from the shelves.

“Kitchen accident,” the girl replied promptly as he showed her how to apply it. 

Tony caught a glimpse of the burn and immediately called bullshit. _“If that’s a kitchen burn, I’m the freakin’ Pope. More like she picked up a hot coal,”_ he thought, looking at the extent of the burn.

The palm showed reddened, raw skin in spots where the skin had been peeled off after blistering. Scabbing was forming where the burns were deepest. It looked painful, going by the way she winced as the pharmacist wrapped her hand in fresh bandages after treating it.

The lady at the tobacco stand still glared at her with deep suspicion while the girl purchased the balm and paid for the fresh bandages then lingered around the magazine section, ignoring the old woman. The old lady’s gaze travelled to Tony briefly and she frowned, puzzled.

Tony just ignored her and raided the shelves for things he wanted, mostly TV dinners and other forms of microwaveable food. His sharp senses caught some conversation from an isle over.

“Wow, Mrs. Peron really hates that girl, huh?” a man said.

“I don’t get it, either. I mean, she’s a shrewish little thing but still…” a girl replied.

“And that funny-looking guy is with her, do you think he’s a tenant at the house?”

“Might be if he came in with her. Poor bastard’s not gonna last. I’ll eat a hat if he’s a boyfriend, nobody in their right mind would—“

“Some guys like weird.”

“You’re horrible.”

Tony poked his head around the shelves to find two young clerks, a slim girl and a larger, rounder man stocking fridges. They caught sight of him and hushed up quickly, returning to their task, although they directed fleeting glances at him. Tony chuckled; the shop was small enough that she _must_ have heard them and when he walked into their isle, he saw her stare right at him with an exasperated, irritated look. No wonder people felt that way about her.

“Aw guys, the twig’s not that bad!” he chuckled as he grabbed some frozen dinners.

He was sure she scowled at him for calling her that but he didn’t care. He hauled his loot – canned drinks, any ready-to-eat meals and microwave dinners that caught his fancy – to the register to get it over with. Just as it was getting tallied up, he reached into his pocket for money and realized that all he had on him were some of those antique coins. Which, though valuable, were useless for everyday transactions.

Tony suddenly felt like he would begin to sweat under the gaze of the beady-eyed young woman at the register who seemed to notice his face grow blank and probably saw his conundrum coming a mile away, having likely seen it before a dozen times. So did Tess, because just as Tony was about to give up and abandon his haul sheepishly, Tess approached and leaned over the side of the counter to talk to the woman.

“Hi Juls. This is our new tenant,” she said casually. “He just paid his first rent so could you start a tab for him? I’ll make sure he comes back and pays later.” 

The woman’s cool gaze travelled from Tess to Tony pointedly and then she shrugged. “Hnh… well, alright. Just make sure he comes back before Monday, Tess. So, what name?” she said, drawing a notebook from under her register.

Tony sheepishly gave his name, with Tess staring at him as he bagged his things with a slightly gaze that he didn’t know what to make of. He muttered a word of thanks. He would have to see Roy about his possibly valuable pennies sooner than he had planned.

She just shrugged a bit and headed for the door just as he got done. On their way out, the old woman at the tobacco counter again glared at the girl with a kind of hostility that Tony honestly found amusing and sad. She hissed a few more curses after the girl as she stepped outside. He followed Tess out, giving the woman an odd look which made her shrink back. He got out into the cold again and caught up with her as she hurried away, adjusting her jacket. He had longer legs and was easy to keep up and notice her look get a bit distant and hard.

It’d gotten rather dark at last and only the street lamps and store signs illuminated the streets.

“Hope you got the idea of how to get here,” she muttered.

He looked at her with a matter-of-fact raise of the brow. “I think I can manage. But would you _want_ to walk me here again, in case I don’t?” he asked, only slightly suggestively.

She hardly looked at him and her reply was curt. “No. Don’t flatter yourself because I spared you a scene back there. You making a scene meant I had to endure a scene and I didn’t want to spend any more time in there than I had to.”

Tony almost whistled. Snappy little thing! There really must be something to that old playground principle: the more someone reacts, the more you want to pick on them.

“Aw come on, you did that because ya like me,” Tony said with a shrug. “You got me a good room back at the house and you walked me out here first day on! I can’t say I blame you, I’m not a bad-lookin’ guy!”

She stopped at last, whipped around and got in his face and he was forced to stop immediately. She had a look on her face now, like a cat sizing up a dog she wants to challenge.

Her tone was clear enough on that. “Is that what you think?” There was finally a hint of a smile – an angry kind of smile.

Tony never backed down from challenges of any kind, from anybody. It was one of those kinds of flaws in a person that either somehow make them endearing or insufferably and get them in constant trouble.

Tony was the latter.

He stared her down even as she tried to do the same – whilst looking up. He still smirked a bit. “Ya don’t look like you’d that for just anyone. There’s something to your _mild kindness_ , be it you really do like me or something I’m not quite catching onto.”

There was a pregnant pause between his quip and her answer, during which her gaze just darted across his face, like she was looking for something. Then she finally scoffed, looking aside. “My kindness,” she echoed flatly. “Sure I like you. I burn, I pine, I _perish_ without you.”

Tony just stared. That wasn’t quite what he’d expected, that tired sarcasm.

“What’s your problem?” he snapped.

“You think you’ve already got me figured out,” she snapped back. “You read too much into things and you heard what they call me. A witch. It’s one letter away from ‘bitch’ which is what they really mean. So quit trying to butter me up or lead me on. I get it. I’m entertainment.”

He frowned. He could’ve laughed it off, walked on and forgotten about this but when she got in his face like this that funny feeling he got from her got stronger. And in doing so, her sheer impertinence rankled something in his sensibilities.

“You’re one to talk. Who’s assuming they’ve figured _me_ out already, _Twig?”_ he said tartly. “You’ve got me pegged as an asshole, have ya? Well, tough. Getting used as a punching bag for little girls who bottle shit up is what makes me into an ass. It ever cross your mind that maybe granny’s got a point?”

He dodged around her and with a quick, heavy step, stomped off to the building without caring if she followed. His mood had soured, thanks to the little shrew. And for a moment he’d started to like her. Now he just felt that he might’ve stumbled onto the first downside of his new home. His long stride brought him back to the door of the building, again reminding him of the odd sensation he got from the act of crossing the threshold, though not as intense as previously.

He found Roy seated at his desk behind the counter, seemingly at leisure. He was sitting leaned back, book held open in one hand and sipping the pale orange drink from a small glass in the other. A sweet smell of citrus permeated the room. He only glanced up when he heard the door and acknowledged Tony with a nod.

“Hey Roy, ya share any of that?” Tony asked with a smile.

Roy chuckled. “Not my personal stash and certainly not with a minor,” he crooned. “But I see Tess took you sightseeing. How do you like our little hellcat?” 

Tony scowled but at the same time a tart smile played on his lips. So Roy anticipated this kind of outcome. It seemed like Tess reputation was well-established. He shrugged and made his way to the stairs, boots clumping at every step. “I could do without the Twig!” he admitted. “Hey, can I talk to you about some more coins? I might… need some cash and fuck if I know any pawn shops.”

Roy chuckled a bit. “Certainly, I’m quite at my leisure for the rest of the night!” he called after the boy, taking a sip of his liquor. “And you can store things in the communal fridge, just label them!”

Roy listened to the grunted affirmative from upstairs as Tony vanished into his room and resumed his reading until the door opened again and Tess shuffled in, stiff from cold and looking thoughtful.

“And here you are,” he chuckled, looking up. “I see you’ve been nosing around our tenant. Trampled all over him yet?”

Tess directed a small scowl at him. “No, but the day’s not over yet,” she sighed, taking off her jacket irritably. “He’s touchy.” Then she looked at him accusingly. “You’ve noticed, right?”

Roy gave her a puzzling smirk in return. “Oh, I certainly _have_. I’m just waiting to see if _you_ can figure it out.”

She just scowled at him. “What’s to figure out? I can see it.”

He just shrugged and his smirk shrank. “And ah… your grandmother is looking for you.”

The statement arrested Tess’ motion to head for the kitchen. She wheeled around instead, her scowl worse than ever. “Great, what’s the insufferable hag want now?”

Roy’s face contrived to shape into a highly disapproving look that rolled over the redhead’s cool gaze. “She just wants to talk to you.”

Tess grimaced. “That’s always what she says and then she blows up on me,” she grumbled. “I bet you anything it’s about him,” she added, jabbing a thumb towards the stairs.

Roy sighed, shoulders drooping. “Well, naturally. Just go. You’re better than me at dealing with her. Now about that drea—“

Tess snorted as she opened the door to the side. “Stop. We’ve talked circles about that, Roy. You’re all but saying I’m crazy. Grams doesn’t even beat around the bush about it. I made my point. If she wants to blissfully ignore what’s going on, that’s her problem. I’m not about to start lying now just so she can deem me sane.”

Roy opened his mouth to retort but by then the girl had walked through the door and shut it behind her.

Meanwhile, Tony had unloaded most of his groceries into the small fridge in his room. The rest, especially the deep freeze ones, would need to be stowed in the communal fridge downstairs. He also decided that he was again hungry.

 _“Well, it’s been a rough day up to now… and it’s never too late for pizza!”_ he thought, snatching a microwave pizza and the rest of the food meant for the fridge, and heading downstairs. On his way out, he grabbed a few of the coins he’d first presented to Roy.

He found Roy still enjoying his drink and book. He paused beside the counter and cocked his head a bit. The sweet citrus smell permeated the lobby. “What are you drinking, anyway?”  

Roy looked up at him, closing his book around a paper bookmark and a little, guilty grin crept up his face. “Liqueur made from tangerines. My only vice. I bring this liquid heaven from Spain,” he chuckled merrily.

He stood up and walked with Tony into the lounge with the communal kitchen, carrying his glass with him. “You know… I’m kind of impressed. You gave our little wench a jostle today.”

The communal kitchen and lounge was kind of crammed, but clean and neat, with a full kitchen and an enormous fridge along one wall, while the other end of the room had a TV, two large sofas and two armchairs along a large coffee table, with a dining table near the kitchen counter. Tony thought it was appealing and practical, even if he didn’t care much for socializing. The microwave he had asked about sat on one of the counters. He got busy stuffing things into the large fridge; he claimed a whole shelf for his own with Roy’s permission, while the latter studied the coins Tony showed him and kept some notes.

“I did?” he said absently. 

Roy refilled his glass from a bottle in a tall cabinet and resumed his study of the coins. “Tess is a bit… introverted and doesn’t usually mingle with tenants. I’m a little amazed you got more than a peep out of her. She was good and angry when she came back,” he said. “I assume the woman at the store harassed her again?”

Tony shut the fridge. “Yeah. What’s with her?”

Roy chuckled. “Hell if I know. Got it into her head that Tess is some ginger devil child,” he sighed and Tony snorted. But then Roy turned a tad thoughtful. “The old bat is fixated. But I guess ‘witch’ kind of fits Tess. She’s a strange, angry kid. A little mean when pushed around… and she gets pushed around a lot,” he sighed, drinking some more.

Tony closed the fridge and stared at Roy, who stared at nothing thoughtfully, tilting his glass back and forth slowly.

“Whaddaya mean, old man?” Tony dared. 

Roy grimaced a bit and drank a sip. “Welp, I said too much,” he muttered, tapping his finger against the glass and sitting straight. “But take it from me; she’s really not as bad as she makes you think she is.”

“Sounds like she bottles things up,” Tony shrugged, zeroing in on the microwave. “No wonder she blows up on random people.”

Roy chuckled knowingly. “Tess has flaws and a stubborn attitude. Not everyone can stomach that so they call her a shrew. It sticks and she acts like it because everyone expects it. Hell, even I do sometimes when I lose my temper.”  

Tony was disinterested in these revelations. He had already some theories about the girl. “Sure, old man.”

Roy shook his head at the microwave pizza Tony was cramming into the appliance. “Good grief, I hope you don’t plan to live on that junk. We’ve got a working kitchen,” he said with a slight wrinkle of the nose.

Tony set the appliance and shrugged. “Not like I have any plans past eighteen,” he muttered.

“Pity, I was starting to get used to having a tenant in the place again, it’s been empty long enough,” Roy answered. “And just when Tess was starting to like you.”

Tony laughed out loud as Roy smirked. With the pizza nicely warming up, it began to smell – Tony approved but evidently Roy did not because he snorted with mild disgust and took a big swig of his drink.

Tony ignored him, checking whether it was done and setting it for a bit longer. “Whatever, old man, at this point food is food!”

Roy scoffed. "I imagine so,” he sipped some more liquor.

While they were in the middle of discussing how much money Roy could give him for the coins, Tess walked in from the lobby and immediately grimaced and waved her hand in front of her face with a concerned expression. “Jeez! Roy, what’s that stink—“

Then she saw Tony and her concern turned to a perfect deadpan. “Oh. Somehow I’m not surprised.”

“Hey, you’re one to talk, Twig!” Tony scoffed. “At least I eat! Maybe you should try it sometime! Put some meat on them bones!”

He emphasized it by poking her skinny arm gently as he passed her by for where Roy indicated the plates were stored.

She seemed startled when he poked her and sort of whipped away from him, all tense, in a kind of way that made him pause briefly. She stared back at him, a mix of bewilderment, frustration and confusion. The microwave then let out a cheery _ding!_ and Tony swiftly turned back around to tend to his now piping hot pizza, shuffling it from the nuke tray to a plate to let it cool.

Tess seemed to compose herself and wrinkled her nose at the spectacle, then stared at Roy, who snorted at her look, almost choking on the last sips of his liqueur. That just got him a glare from Tess, which traveled between him and Tony, as if both were equally offending.  

“Thanks,” she told Tony tartly. “But I think I’ll stick with food that doesn’t make my arteries panic,” she muttered.

She opened the fridge and taking out a green apple, she began to eat it slowly, leaning against the fridge’s door with one arm tucked in her armpit. “So, she said she's fine with letting him stay, by the way. For now, at least,” she said to Roy.

Tony tried to ignore her but that was a very good veiled threat, right there, giving him warning about how delicate his terms of stay were, after all.

“Oh? Hell must be feeling chilly,” he replied, looking relieved and Tony stifled a snort. “Goodness knows we needed some traffic around this dead place. I couldn’t stand you and Magda alone for longer,” Roy replied, looking relieved.

He picked up his cooled pizza and drew up a chair at the table, staring pointedly at the girl who had the gall to talk about him in third person with him right there.

“I can’t say I blame ya, Roy!” he said, tearing a slice from his meal and taking a bite. “This place must be real lively with you around!” he added, using the edge of his slice to point at Tess. “You gotta lighten up a little, Twig.”

She just directed a withering scowl at him. “Or maybe you need to bug off and not tell me what to do,” she snapped back, biting into her apple a little harder. “And stop calling me stuff like Twig! Or bones, or whatever! You’re one to talk with that meteor you call a nose attached to your face!”

That comment about his nose _almost_ caused the boy to splutter.  

Roy watched this little theater of the absurd without commentary, he just struggled to hold back a large grin and that just served to irritated the redhead even more. For his part, he felt some relief watching the girl get a bit flustered; it meant she still cared enough about people’s opinion. Perhaps a bit of this teasing might serve to teach her that her own sarcastic response to everything was not going to serve her all the time. The fact that the boy had latched onto something other than her behavior to tease her about was good.

“Nothing wrong with my nose, at least I’ll grow into it! So what should I call you?” Tony fired back, around another big bite of pizza. “Plank? Stick? Red Skeleton?” he chuckled.

Tess scowled at him stiffly, ponderously chewing her bite of apple, somewhere between bewildered at being treated this way and disgusted at his manners. “My name will do just fine, thanks, _Schnozz,_ ” she snarked. “I’m not _that_ thin!”

But the way she tugged the hem of her hoodie down contradicted her statement painfully. She was truly a slim girl, lacking pronounced curves as the shirt hung around her in a rather unflattering manner.

Tony was practically inhaling his pizza by now. “Fine then, I’ll just call you stuff _behind_ your back!” he said slyly. 

He was just getting started; teasing her was pretty damn funny and by the looks of things, Roy thought as much, but was better at concealing it. Maybe he was being a little mean, but the girl had raised his hackles earlier and from where Tony stood, she deserved it. Besides, at least her irritation brought some animation to her face, rather than the apathetic look she’d had when he first walked in here. Her eyes fairly gleamed with irritation which was better than the deadened, icy stare.

“Go choke on something, _please,_ ” she said angrily, turning her back and stomping out of the lounge.

Tony’s satisfied little snicker followed her out of the room.

Roy chuckled quietly. “Ahaha… I’m sorry for her attitude, Tony. Don’t take her too seriously. She has a lot on her mind and she’s not used to being teased.”

Tony just grinned, wiping his hands on a napkin and, feeling nice, put his plate in the washing machine rather than leave it hanging about. “Don’t worry, old man, I’ve heard way worse. Takes more than an angry little girl to make me upset!”

“Wait till she gets started,” Roy snorted as Tony made his way out.

He heard music coming softly from one of the other rooms but paid it no mind. His new rooms were warm and although still pretty bare, felt welcoming. He kicked his boots off, haphazardly made his bed and threw himself on it, relishing the smell of clean sheets and covers and let sleep claim him in a sincere way for a long time in months.


	3. The Devil in 2F

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where secrets come out at last, masks come off and two brats start playing nice.

Tony lay in bed in a lazy, comfortable and cozy slumber as sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating his new room in a cool, mid-winter glow. It took a few moments for the light to finally rouse him after it hit his face and he blinked groggily a few times, stretching with a wide yawn before rolling over to grab the alarm clock from the night table and he squinted at it.

Aha! 11: 24 am. He hadn’t slept the day away just yet.

He got out of bed properly and stretched again with a mighty yawn.  It had been a few days since he moved in and the boy was already comfortable in his digs. Clothes were strewn on the sofa and the floor around his bed and he rummaged through them for a pair of faded charcoal sweatpants and a wife-beater. As he pulled them on, his gaze fell on his two guns: A fine pair of heavy .45 mm firearms lying haphazardly on the small table after their usual cleaning last night. The sword was still in the guitar case, propped up against the wall where he’d left it. He wondered whether he should go looking for trouble or not and get some use out of them.

He stepped out into the chilly hall, yawning again. He’d adjusted to the communal bathroom thing quickly since he only had to worry about one person. So far he hadn’t crossed paths with the snappy red-head in the hallways yet. She usually avoided or ignored him – he hadn’t poked her much since the first day but evidently her first impression had been enough. Sometimes when they ran into each other, she would give him a strange look and then walk away. Tony didn’t see Tess around the building much and concluded she either stayed in her room a lot or went out. She’d show up in the lounge to make meals but he rarely saw her eat there.

One night he found her watching some movie on the TV in the lounge late at night, with a gray cat lying on her lap and she pointedly ignored him.

The subtle scent of citrus he picked up from the bathroom sometimes was the surest way to tell when she had gotten up before him.

He gave another wide yawn as he reached the bathroom door.

“Careful, a bee might fly in. Oh, nevermind, your breath would kill it anyway.”

 _“Speak of the devil,”_ he thought.

Tony looked to his left. Tess was fully dressed, closing and locking her door. She was wearing a loose V-neck shirt with a zip-up sweatshirt over it. Somewhat more flattering than the hoodie but her expression was more of the same – though some of that might have been the early morning. She looked like she hadn’t slept well.

Tony just scratched the back of his neck. So, she felt ‘fighty’ first thing in the morning, eh? Well, she wasn’t the only one who woke up cranky! He got in her way as she headed for the stairs and got right in her face so she’d get a face-full of his breathing.

“You look like _you're_ no princess either when you wake up.”

Tess shut her eyes and backed away from him with a grimace, then simply walked around him.

“Yeah well, at least I brush my teeth,” she said, giving him a sly look over her shoulder as she went to the staircase. “But I guess compared to you I look fine. Even _you_ look happy to see me, unless you sleep with pencils in your pocket,” she added, chuckling pointedly and glanced down.

Still fresh from sleep, Tony sniffled and looked down on himself.

_“Oops.”_

Being a healthy teenaged boy, Tony was prone to some... unfortunate morning situations. He winced at the sight of a light bulging in his pants, the beginnings of a morning glory. He narrowed his eyes at her and hitched his pants further up while calling over his shoulder as he entered the bathroom.

“Well I wasn’t thinking of you, Twig! Not enough meat on your bones to get it up!”

 _“That should teach her,”_ he thought, expecting her to be too rattled to reply.

He wasn’t expecting her to irritably stop at the top of the stairs and angrily fire back! “Better go see Rosie Palms about getting it down then, Schnozz, because I won’t help! Unless you want a kick; that should make quick work of it!”

Tony frowned and told himself to just go about his business but his pride couldn’t let that stand. He growled back to assure himself the last word of the low-blow match: “I wouldn’t let you near me like that if your hands were made of velvet!”

When he closed the bathroom door behind him, he grimaced; the shower reeked of citrus again.

Meanwhile, Tess trotted down the rest of the stairs and went into the kitchen. A gray cat with green eyes lay on a rug in the lounge area, and it turned its luminous eyes at her as she came inside. It looked almost surprised. It then _spoke_ , with a voice that sounded unmistakably like Roy’s, right down to the faintly British lisp.

“What…are you two talking about?!” the cat quipped.

Tess, completely unfazed by the talking cat, opened the fridge, took out a jug of orange juice and poured herself some in a glass.

“Nevermind,” she muttered.

She drank some of her juice and glared upwards at the noise of the shower, then set about making herself some breakfast; pancakes. The cat hopped onto counter beside her, purring lightly when she reached out and stroked its back absently as she cooked her pancakes and listened to the weather forecast on television. Unusually cold weather for the season was the main feature.

“You look angry, first thing in the morning,” the cat said, flicking its tail softly. “Somehow it’s almost better than your usual gloom. Does he really bother you that much, or is it simply that you’ve forgotten how to cope with people your own age?”

“He’s an ass, of course he bothers me,” she snapped.

The cat actually let a soft chuckle. “Then I’d argue you’re getting a taste of your own medicine.”

“I am _not_ that bothersome.”

“Oh, you bother my nerves well enough,” the cat said sarcastically. 

Tess sulked at the cat. She didn’t feel like arguing with him. She dropped the subject and just sipped some more juice as she looked at the windy weather outside the window and then poured another bit of batter into the pan.

Back upstairs, Tony dried out his hair with a towel and smiled in satisfaction, feeling refreshed after a hot morning shower and changing clothes. He’d already forgotten his little spat with the Twig. He found some relatively clean clothes to put on, black jeans with a gray shirt and then hunted under the bed for his boots. He finally moseyed downstairs with the intent of breakfast, a microwave pastry being his choice of poison.

As he neared he bottom of the stairs he thought he heard Tess talking to someone in the kitchen. He actually smirked a bit when he saw her standing over the stove and then he smelled pancakes. They smelled awfully good. But she was alone except for the cat standing by her feet. It stared right at him and he wondered whether she’d been talking to it. He looked up and caught her staring at him as well, for a moment, before she returned her attention to her breakfast, expertly flipping a pancake over. Tony frowned at the cat; he’d seen it around the place sometimes and assumed it was a pet that just came and went as it pleased. It always seemed to stare at him and, oddly, never ran away from him.

Roy was nowhere to be seen.

He shrugged the thought off and just tossed the wrap of his breakfast into the microwave. The cat let a throaty meow and stretched luxuriously, as only cats do. It padded closer to him, sniffing and swishing its tail. Tony glanced at the cat just as it snorted audibly and shook its head vigorously. Tess scoffed as the cat beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen, offended by the smell. Tony narrowed his eyes at the editorial comment of the cat just as Tess added a last pancake to a short stack on a plate and put the pan and cooking utensils in the sink.

“Ugh, you’re gonna eat another nuked thing for breakfast?” 

Tony schooled his features into a poker face, leaning against the counter and crossed his arms. “As a matter of fact, I will,” he stated. “I don’t know how to cook. I don’t care to, so lay off my eating habits and start worrying about developing some of your own.”

Tess just rolled her eyes at him. She picked up her plate and sat at the table to eat as he opened the microwave to retrieve his wrap. It was piping hot as he struggled to get it open without damaging the contents. He was unaware that Tess stared right at him as he got the steaming pastry out of the bag and bit into it without a single sign of discomfort. Chewing, he went to the fridge and retrieved a can of soda before dropping onto one of the couches on the other side of the lounge and watched the morning news on the TV.

They both ate in silence, bar the ramble of the news anchor and Tess flipping through a book at the table. He glanced at her a couple of times. So she didn’t live on air after all! In fact, he deduced she must’ve had quite the sweet tooth, judging by all the syrup she put on her pancakes. Sometimes she’d glance back at him and he read something like troubled thoughts in her countenance every time. And that funny feeling he had around her was back again.

“Hey, so how long’s it been since anyone actually lived here, besides you and Roy?” he asked absently.

“And my grandmother,” Tess sighed. “I think it’s been two years. Last tenant was a real dipshit who never paid rent on time and kept pissing Roy off. Brought all kinds of shit into the house, too.”

She said it with a kind of pointed warning tone that almost made him laugh.  It would explain Roy’s initial skepticism, though, being burned like that before. Tony ate the rest of his piping hot breakfast and dusted his hands, then got off the couch and headed for the stairs again, after nonchalantly throwing his empty soda can towards the rubbish bin and scoring a perfect three-points.

“Bet you scared him off before Roy could!” he said cheerily and snatched a sizable piece of cut pancake from her plate as he passed her by. “Now eat! I’m outta here!”

She blurted a small noise of protest at his theft and _stabbed_ some pancake with her fork. “Fuckin’ idiot,” she mumbled. But all the same, his barb seemed to have hit home because she just stared at her plate and angrily bit into a syrupy morsel. 

Tony walked out of the lounge, enjoying his stolen treat (he noted that she made really tasty pancakes) and headed upstairs to change. Talking with her made him think it was time to have another look at the area around the building, maybe find some trouble to get into. Wouldn’t be the first time that he did, since arriving in this particular city. He pulled some thicker clothes on and his red duster after retrieving it from under some clothes lying on the back of his couch. He made a mental note it might be time to finally make some use of the laundry room at the basement. He grabbed the two guns lying on the table and after a quick check, twirled them expertly and holstered them both under his coat. He decided to leave the sword there for now; he was just going to have a quick look around.

He bolted down the stairs and was out of the front door before long. Tess watched him leave from her seat in the lounge and after a moment’s hesitation, sprang up and dashed after him. Roy was just coming into the lounge when Tess rushed out and she stepped over his toes while grabbing her jacket from the hall.

“Ouch!—yes, good morning to you too!” he said with evident sarcasm.

“You can eat the rest of the pancakes. Bye!” Tess countered and whipping on her jacket, ran out the door.

Roy just stared at the door swinging shut with a deadpan look. “Huh. Sixteen years and I _still_ don’t get that little--” he mumbled, going in the kitchen, where he eyed the leftover pancakes gleefully.

Tess stole out of the building and caught up to Tony as he sauntered down the street. It was a cold morning so she shrugged into her jacket while he walked along with big, easy strides. She had to fairly jog to keep up with him and scowled. She followed him for a while, watching with interest as he meandered around the area, ducking into alleys and sometimes examining graffiti and other scribbles on walls. He looked like he was searching for something. The streets were mostly empty for that time of day, which didn’t surprise Tess given the weather… and certain incidents that haunted the city in the last few months. She didn’t think he noticed her until a woman, wrapped in a thick coat and scarf, walking her Labrador, crossed paths with them. The dog shied away from Tony with its tail almost between its legs with a nervous whine but before she could dodge around it, the dog surged towards her with a confident bark.

Ahead of her, Tony stopped, sighed dramatically so that his shoulders drooped and whipped around.

“Has nobody ever taught you to mind your own business, Twig?” he challenged with narrowed eyes.

The girl stood her ground, panting slightly from trying to keep up with him. “What are you up to?” she fired back bravely. “You’re looking for something.”

Tony scoffed and looked away briefly, discomposed by the girl’s pointed observation. “None of your business,” he said, whipping around to walk away, choosing a decidedly seedy alley.

“It becomes my business when you’re living in my bloody home!” she snapped. “You’re out here deliberately looking for trouble that for all I know winds up back to my goddamn house.”

“And your solution is to tail me, Twig? Which, by the way, you suck at,” he grunted, half turning and gesturing at her.

“You’re one to talk, you couldn’t shake me,” she groused.

“Couldn’t be bothered.”

Whether he liked it or not though, now she was following him and showed no indication of being afraid to do so or of being alone with him in some dark corners of the city.

“So while you’re here, ya maybe heard anything about what’s going on in town?” he asked casually.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, it’s a big city” she countered, stepping over an upended trashcan.

“About funny stuff happening. More than usual.”

She scoffed. “You suck at fishing,” she observed. “But… are you talking about the sharp rise of violent incidents?”

“Now you’re just being coy, Twig—“

The soft splat stopped them both in their tracks. They had just exited an alley when they heard the distinct noise of something liquid hit the pavement. They both glanced at each other and then slowly looked over their shoulders. There was a dark stain on the ground, its true color lost amid the filthy pavement of the alley. Tony felt the hackles on the back of his neck rise and Tess inhaled sharply and hunched her shoulders. They both looked up and saw something… slimy-looking vanish out of sight over the side of a building. Neither spoke for a long moment.

Before Tony could tear off after it and leave the Twig in his dust, the air… tightened. Tony immediately reached for one of his guns.

“Wait, that was—“

She stopped mid-sentence, gaze fixed in the gap of gloomy sky between the two buildings. Tony saw her freeze in place, jaw slowly working as if she were trying to speak but producing no sound. Her eyes glazed over but he was pretty sure she could see _something,_ which just confirmed his suspicions that—

She suddenly brought her hand to her head, winced and then hunched over, clutching her head with both hands and trying to stifle pained noises and perhaps, words. Her eyes were peeled open and her expression was fixed in bewilderment and _terror_.  

Just as suddenly, the tight feeling in the air passed like a shadow over them and the girl uttered an exhausted groan and her eyes rolled back in their sockets as she pitched forward onto her knees. She’d have fallen flat if Tony hadn’t hurriedly reached out and caught her, equal amounts of surprised and puzzled. He cast sharp looks around them for any evidence of what might’ve caused her… her _episode,_ or whatever this was, but found nothing. He quickly holstered his gun and tried to revive her. He muttered a few curses; if his suspicions were confirmed about her and this place, she had been very foolish to follow him.

“Goddammit—Hey. Hey, girlie. Tess. Tess!” he said, shaking her gently.

She didn’t respond and, biting his lip, he pressed his fingers just beneath her jaw. He breathed out; she had a pulse. She looked awful, though. Her breathing was weak, she felt cold to the touch and her paleness had become waxy. He awkwardly looked around, then irritably put his gun away.

“Aw for fuck’s sake…” Tony sighed and picked her up in his arms. She was completely limp and as expected, didn’t weigh very much.

He stepped out of the alley proper and to his surprise, found that his snooping had brought him just around the corner from the convenience store, presently looking very much like normal. He blinked at it, scowled and then hurried away to carry his now softly groaning passenger back to the boarding house.

“Who goes out following a total stranger, anyway…” he muttered irritably.

At least, he encountered nobody on his way back – the last thing he needed was someone seeing him carry her like a princess. She eventually seemed to revive just enough to squirm and clutch her head again, breathing sharply and muttering quietly about ‘the door’ and ‘it’s seeping’ and ‘it’s there’.

He clambered up the front steps of the boarding house building, struggled with his keys and shouldered the door open. The lobby was empty and in his mounting agitation about the girl, he finally called out in frustration.

“Hey, _Roy_!!”

To his surprise, the man came almost crashing down the stairs in a storm of swearing and uttering a sort of war-cry. He brandished a… broomstick in the most hostile manner. Tony guessed he must’ve been sweeping upstairs and he startled him.

“Who the hell—“

Roy stopped dead at the foot of the stairs when he saw Tony and his ‘cargo’. As the broomstick dropped from his hands with a clatter he sounded a weird noise from his throat and rushed over. In a weird way, Tony felt like Roy was suddenly filling the entire lobby.

“Tess! What happened?!” he demanded, glaring at Tony and for a fleeting fragment of a second, the teenager could’ve sworn he saw the man’s eyes flash amber, but the next moment his attention was entirely on the heavy fist that Roy was shaking as he towered over them. "If this is your doing, so help me I'll—“

“Slow down, old man!” Tony blurted, actually stumbling backwards a step or two. He didn’t slack his hold on Tess, who groaned quietly. “This ain't my fault, okay?! She just dropped! Quit your barking and let’s get her to lie down!”

Roy stared him down for a moment and then grunted irritably and seized Tony by the arm. He dragged the boy over to the lounge and the two of them set Tess on one of the couches, where Roy stuffed a pillow under her back to prop her up. Tony was now torn; on one hand he wanted to skulk away before anyone could blame him for anything, but on the other hand he found himself concerned about what was wrong with the still dazed girl. He wasn’t sure whether Roy knew of what Tony suspected. He watched the older man check Tess’ pulse and then her forehead with an anxious look on his face.

“Thank goodness, she’s just dazed – she’s so cold, though. What happened?” he asked Tony, staring right at him.

Tony found himself shrugging at the piercing gaze and before he could stop himself he blurted “I didn’t—“

He took a deep breath to stop himself and then continued in a calm, flat tone. “Look, I just went out to look around the city, and she… she followed me, I guess. We were just shooting the shit and she suddenly keeled over after grabbing her head. I checked her vitals, didn’t know what the heck to do with her, so I picked her up and here we are.”

Roy’s eyes narrowed and he scrutinized the boy’s face but then he nodded. “Hmph… Did you see what she was doing before she collapsed? Was anyone there? Did you two see anything? Anything… unusual?”

In the middle of his questions, Roy reached out and caught Tony’s arm just as the boy was shuffling away. 

Tony winced, pulling his arm free from the old man. “What is this, 20 questions?” he grumbled, frustrated. “I told you what happened. That's all there's to it!”

Roy shook his head. “Where were you two when it happened?”

“Just… in an alley; right around the convenience store, actually. Didn’t even realize I was near it until we turned a corner. I told you, I was just learning my way around the area,” Tony huffed. “She was playing Nancy Drew or whatever, like I’m some kinda criminal. We were just talking.”

He irritably tucked his hands under his armpits. Tess was still out of it, eyes shut and breathing deep but her forehead was creased in what looked like pain. “So… what’s with her?”

Roy was looking away, with an inscrutable gaze. “Nothing to worry about. It… it happens to her sometimes. Just a bit sensitive,” he said but Tony wasn’t buying it.

“Bullshit,” Tess spoke up suddenly, in a small, tired voice. “I’m not… sensitive,” she muttered, trying to sit up.

Roy whipped around to keep her from getting up. He stroked her head gently. “I’m glad you’re alright. What happened?”

Tony quietly breathed out in relief to see her awake. “Ya call that normal?” he muttered, scrutinizing her.

The girl gently pushed off Roy’s hand, sitting up at last with a light groan. She massaged her temples and glanced at Tony before answering. “The same old thing.”

Roy seemed startled. “Now come on, you aren’t—“

Tess shook her head. “Stop it, I know what I saw—“

“You saw nothing, child. You had a feverish raving.”

Tony was startled and whipped around faster than he wanted, at the sound of this unknown voice. It was elderly and sagely but the same time authoritative and hard. He was surprised someone could sneak up on him like that.

The old woman stood by the archway of the lounge, staring right at him. She was tall and very thin and rigid-looking, with olive skin. Tony was forcibly reminded of an evil queen in some fairy tale, what with those piercing brown eyes, the almost artistic wrinkles and graying hair, pulled in a severe braided bun at the back of her head. She stepped closer, her deep purple, satin matronly dress almost sweeping the floor – she had a firm, commanding step and presence. It seemed to wrap her like a shroud, close fitting with long sleeves and a tall neck, straight out of a very different decade, just like the black silk shawl hanging from her shoulders.

When she came closer, the scent of a cigarette from a cigarette holder hit his nostrils.   

Tony blinked; she looked quite the grand lady. At the same time, his body tensed up. There it was, a vague feeling yet again, just like earlier.

 _“Huh, if anyone in the house looks like a witch, it’s her,”_ he thought.

The old lady approached the couch and Tony watched the girl tense and clamp up. She felt Tess’ forehead even as the girl flinched back.

Tony could have just walked out at that instant since it seemed the whole thing would be handled but he felt himself strangely fascinated by the whole scene.

Tess swatted the woman’s hand away and just glared up at her. “Trying to make me sound like a lunatic yet again?”

The woman stood straight again in a perfectly calm, detached manner, bringing her cigarette holder to her mouth softly. “You bring this on yourself,” she said.

Roy attempted a respectful interjection. “Look, I don’t think it’s really wise to—“

“Quiet, Roy,” the woman snapped, she glanced from Tony to Tess and then back at the boy. “Thank you for bringing my granddaughter home. I apologize for the inconvenience. You may go, there’s no need to stand about. She’ll be quite alright.”

Tony nodded but he couldn’t help but feel a bit thoughtful. Sure, she’d caused him inconvenience but still…

“Uh, sure, no problem,” he said, inching towards the door. “Catch you later,” he added, glancing at Roy.

With that, he bolted out the front door. _“So_ that’s _her grandmother. Freaky old lady. What did Roy say her name was? Magda? Something like that. No wonder the Twig’s like that,”_ he thought.

He never saw Tess’ almost dismayed look on his back as he left. The girl shrugged into the couch as Magda Templar glared at the door after it shut closed with something a bit like anger. When she turned back to stare down the girl, Tess bit her lip but stared back, unafraid.

“I don't like him staying here,” she told the girl sharply, irritated.

“Well it’s too late for that now. You can’t kick him out on a whim,” Tess snapped back.

Magda smirked at her granddaughter’s stubborn reply. “Is this your play at forcing me to act? Bring someone like him inside my home?”

Tess glared daggers at her. “Like it or not it’s my home too. You’re just pissed you can’t bully him like you do me. But forget about that. I mean it, I saw—“

“Enough!” Magda rumbled. “I’ve tolerated this folly from you for long enough. What you claim to see _cannot be_. Do you understand? I have seen no evidence of it. Do not force me to think you are mentally disturbed,” she added pointedly.

“But I’m not! I keep telling you –“ Tess hissed at her.

The old woman stood over her, sneering. “Then what did you see?”

The hard stare flustered Tess. She fumbled with her words and looked away. “I…I don’t know. I just know that something is going to happen.”

Magda shook her head dismissively. “As ever,” she sighed. She turned around and motioned to leave the room. “Go to your room. Rest. You’re unwell.”

Tess glared at the back of her grandmother, opening her mouth to protest but then seemed to think better of it. She clamped her jaw, scowled deeply and then got up. She shrugged off Roy’s attempts to help her and stormed past him and her grandmother up the stairs. She slammed her room’s door shut. 

Tony never saw any of this; he was busy hurrying back to the convenience store and the alleys around it. It was easy to find his way back to the alley where it had all happened: He always had a pretty good memory for places of interest. When he got there, the spatter he had thought was blood had congealed into a sticky smear that didn’t tell him much. His eye travelled up the walls of the two buildings along the alley and he spotted some more drops near the top.

He narrowed his eyes at the sight and mentally calculating the direction of the spatter, he circled the building and found some more spatter in the alley on the other side, which ended right at a chain link fence blocking a narrow dead-end between two buildings. He knew now that he was right behind the convenience store. He easily got over the fence, jumping effortlessly and kicking off the side wall to gain extra height and landed smoothly in the dead-end.

The little street was quiet and in the far end he found what he was looking for.

A puddle of congealing blood was splattered at the foot of the wall of the dead-end, as if it had dripped down from something perched above. He dropped to a knee and examined it, gingerly dipping his index and middle fingers in it. As he pulled back, the blood stranded from his fingers to the puddle for a short distance until it broke. Even congealed, it was too thick to be human. He rubbed it between his fingers and then sniffed it. He wrinkled his nose and stood up, wiping his fingers on the nearby wall. He could see further evidence of his quarry spattered further up the wall.

Whatever had been here had watched but it hadn’t attacked.

He looked around one last time and tapped his knuckles on the nearby wall, frustrated. There was nothing to be done here. All he could do was make his way back to the building. When he opened the door slowly and walked in, he caught Roy walking over to his usual spot at the doorman’s desk with a cup of coffee from the lounge.

Tony walked up to the old man as he sat down and almost absently asked, “Hey, she doin’ ok?”

Roy looked irritated and sighed. “She’s fine but won’t be for long if Magda keeps needling her like that,” he grumbled.

Tony glanced at the owner’s door for a moment then further asked: “So uh… what’s up with her?” He dropped the volume of his voice, not wanting to incur any confrontations with the old lady.

“Tess?” Roy took a sip of his coffee and looked surprised he asked. “There’s nothing… wrong with her. Just Magda.”

“What about the old lady?”

Roy grunted. “S’not my place to give out the family’s laundry,” he huffed. “You can ask Tess if you’re _that_ curious. But… darn that woman, she can’t keep holding grudges at Tess’ old man.”

Tony tilted his head a little. “Her old man, huh…” he muttered.

He knew something of that sort of sentiment.

Roy took a gulp of his coffee. “Magda hated the poor bastard,” he muttered, staring at the photo of the woman on the wall next to his desk distantly. “And it wasn’t even his fault.”

Abruptly he stood up again and picked up a toolbox next to his desk and his coffee. “I have work to do. Heater’s acting funny again.”

Tony watched him wander towards the basement with a scowl. Roy was obviously hiding something and frankly, Tony didn’t blame him. They hardly knew him; they weren’t going to divulge all their family secrets to him. And yet Tony was pretty sure that they were all hiding something and he had a hunch about it. So far, experience had taught him to trust those hunches.

He shook it out of his mind and ponderously climbed the stairs to his room. He had some thinking to do. He let the door swing shut as he entered and threw his coat and gun holsters onto the back of a chair. He pulled his duffel bag from under his bed and rummaged through it until he found what he was looking for: A black, leather-bound notebook, creased and battered with age, held together with broad rubber-bands. He caressed the surface thoughtfully for a second and then took it to the other half of his room. He plucked a root beer from his dinky little fridge and threw himself onto the couch. He cracked open the can and sat on the couch, propping his legs on the small table. He opened the notebook carefully on his lap and started to slowly browse through it until he found what he was looking for.

He brushed his fingers over the hand-written page, for a moment lost completely in the unbidden thoughts dredged up by the careful, precise handwriting. He scowled at what he read and gently tapped a finger on a rough drawing that showed him what his quarry looked like.

“Bloodgoyles,” he muttered irritably.

His door creaked gently and made him look up. The door swung open a little and he saw a pale fist freeze in the motion of knocking. He stood up just as Tess peeked her head in a little. She seemed a bit incredulous. “You… you know what they’re called. Most people can’t even see them.”

Tony scowled. He slapped the book shut in his hand, left it on the couch and the root beer on his table. He vaulted over the couch smoothly and reached the door with an angry step and an angry smile.

“The heck you think you’re doing, Twig?” he snapped.

Tess took a big step back away from the door and, to Tony’s satisfaction, actually looked a little scared as he approached.

“I need to talk to you—“

He looked her in the eye. “And I don’t care. Bye.”  

With that, he shut the door in her face and locked it. He hadn’t properly closed the door earlier. She’d been snooping and his irritation at her made him overlook what was staring him right in the face. He never could deal well with invasions of his privacy. He heard her grunt irritably on the other side and then walk away with loud, stomping footsteps, muttering under her breath – probably curses towards his person and he didn’t give a shit about that. He returned to his perch on the couch and again opened the notebook to examine the pertinent page.

He only emerged from the room just before sundown with another box of microwave food. He started opening the box on his way down the stairs only to be met with a pleasing, warm aroma of cooking food. He almost turned around and left right then and there but his stomach tugged him forward. He found Roy busy over the sink while a pot bubbled over stove.

“Hey,” Tony muttered.

Roy replied with a small grunt. He was pouring cooked spaghetti out of a pot into a colander and Tony envied it. “So, what’d you do to her this time?”

Tony scoffed and whipped around, back-stepping towards the microwave. “Aw come on! Am I gonna get blamed every time the Twig gets a bit pissed?”

Roy chuckled softly and shook his head. “No, no… but she death-glared when I mentioned your name so the odds are good this time,” he said. “I don’t like suffering her bad moods this often but… just watch your back. She doesn’t look like much but she’s… not the nicest girl.”

He returned the drained pasta into the empty pot and drizzled them with a bit of olive oil, turning a studying look at Tony. “But I guess you might find out sooner than you think,” she chuckled.

Tony shrugged. “C’mon, old man. She’s skinnier than that spaghetti, what the heck could she do to me?”

Roy just shook his head with a chortle. “You know… you don’t need to eat that microwave junk tonight. Wanna swap it for a plate of this?” he asked, completely straight-faced. He tasted a bit of the red sauce from the second pot and hummed appreciatively.

Tony had only just shut the microwave door and stood there with his fingers ready to turn the knob, hesitating. The boy loathed charity and usually it was a good way to set him off. He never tolerated being pitied and had never, even when near-starvation, accepted a handout. His pride wouldn’t allow it. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. On the other hand, that food _did_ smell awfully good.

Roy seemed to catch something on Tony’s expression. “Look, I believe in treating my tenants as well as they treat me. You’re mouthy but you’ve been a good sort in the days I’ve known you and you’re all paid off for a good while,” he said, stirring the sauce slowly. “It’s good business and good manners to treat guests to a simple, good dinner on the house once in a while, get to know you.”       

Tony’s dubious expression warmed and he actually smiled. Charity he may have had a beef with out of a sense of persona honor, but free food as a token of goodwill was in no way conflicting with that sense of honor, so he’d happily throw himself upon it. He opened the microwave again and stuffed the tray back into the box.

“Thanks Roy, it’s—“

It was very subtle, Tony would give kudos to that. He was on his way to the fridge to put the box in the freezer for later, when he felt something…almost snap shut, like the jaws of a bear-trap; the sensation of _something_ grabbing at his ankle and making the opposite boot hook against it. His eyes went wide as he gracelessly flopped onto the floor, practically on his face. The microwave dinner skidded along the floor away from him. Tony moaned. Roy quirked an eyebrow.

“Careful!” Roy said but it was obvious he was biting back a laugh. “Good grief; that was a nasty spill. Are you alright?”

Tony grunted affirmatively and pushed himself up. He rubbed his nose furiously and gingerly felt it for breaks. Fortunately, just bruised.

“…The fuck?” he whispered to himself.

“Might be time to have another look at the floorboards there,” Roy sighed. “They always swell and pop up in humid weather.”

Tony sort of glared at his back, having the distinct impression that the old man knew more than he let on. Tess came in from the lobby just as Tony straightened up. She picked the food packet from the floor and tossed it onto a counter as she neared Roy.

“What was that thud? Did Godzilla come through?” she chuckled.

Tony narrowed his eyes at her, his mounting suspicions now firmly directed at her. Her smug grin did not help things.

“Couldn’t have been you, Twig,” he grunted. “You’re too small to make a noise. I bet when you stumble, you just glide through the air!” He underlined his joke with a hand gesture.

Tess just shrugged, still smirking. “Maybe, Schnozz. Or maybe I’m thin so I can ride my broomstick easier,” she snorted, turning to Roy and looking at the pots. “Hmm, you’ve made one of my favorites. Do you have a favor to ask me, maybe?”

Roy narrowed his eyes at her, with a very good approximation of a look of indignation. “Are you suggesting I’m trying to bribe you, young lady?” he said, amused.

Tess smile was far more sweet and sincere than Tony ever expected her to be capable of. “When I was ten, maybe. But not now,” she said, then nodded towards Tony. “So, we’re feeding Tony now?”

Roy nodded. “I thought it was about time for our little tradition.”

Tess shrugged, but looked content. “Maybe now that we have company you won’t nag me to eat more.”

“No, but perhaps he will. I have something to do once I’m done here, I’m eating late.” Roy corrected her.

Tess blinked at him, then glanced at Tony, then back at Roy. “You’re gonna leave me alone with him?” she said, her voice laced with a kind of theatric melodrama that made Tony crack a smirk. “A total stranger my age?”

Roy rolled his eyes skyward. “Oh I don’t know, I’m banking on your mutual dislike to prevent any hanky-panky,” he said sourly.

Tess seemed taken aback at Roy throwing her joke at her face and her cheeks colored a little with red. Tony, despite his own amusement, felt his own face get a little hot. He hastened to jump in and turn it around.

“I don’t know Roy, she might take the chance to admit her love for me!” he said, sidling up to her and almost draping his arm over her shoulders but she ducked out from under him.

“Oh sure, because I’m _so_ taken with you, Romeo,” she snarked back. “Seeing your bed-head and all really got me going. Yup.”

Roy shook his head. “Plates are in the cupboard so help yourselves,” he announced and after wiping his hands on a kitchen rag, made his way out of the lounge. He was muttering. “I’m getting too old for this mess…”

Tess and Tony chuckled a bit at his hasty retreat then stared at each other warily. He was still miffed at her and she clearly was kind of irritated but the smell of the food was delightfully tugging at them both. Tony went to the cupboard that Roy had gestured at and pulled out two plates.

“Just us or is the old lady joining in?”

Tess had automatically moved over to the pots and picked up the spaghetti tongs.

“Nah. Grams hates eating here. She rarely leaves her house unless she’s got something to do. Not big on socializing, I’m sure you noticed,” Tess sighed. “Look… don’t take what she says too personally. She sets ridiculous standards for people and then gets all bent out of shape when nobody can reach them. There’s a reason I don’t live with her.”

Tony handed her his plate and quirked an eyebrow. “So that’s why, huh. What’s her problem with you? Too skinny?”

Tess snorted. “I wish,” she groaned meaningfully. She handed him back the plate, generously filled with pasta and sauce. “She… likes control. I don’t. She likes to pretend I’m crazy.”

She twirled her finger beside her temple meaningfully.

Tony winced. “Yeah, I get the picture.”

“It doesn’t help that she still hates my dad.”

Tony left his plate on the table and went hunting for cutlery, glancing at her. She looked distracted. “Why, what’d he ever do to her?”

 “Existed, apparently,” Tess snarked. 

This kind of normal conversation they had dropped into suddenly; it… it felt good. He almost felt bad about shattering it but her guard was down and it was about time he stopped dancing around the bush with these people.

He dropped the question with calculated calm and innocence. “So… nothing to do with you two being _witches_?”

Tess’ eyes widened and she fumbled with the plate she was holding. It smashed onto the floor into pieces and she cursed quietly as they both backed away from the point of impact in a hurry. She said nothing, just stared at the broken plate while her breathing grew short and anxious before she shut her mouth and slowly looked up at him. Tony tried to keep his face even. One sentence and everything about her changed. Neither stiff nor feisty but a strange, fearless tension. She sounded more bothered by his bluntness than his knowledge, when she finally spoke.

“No,” she said flatly. “We _are_ witches, nothing to argue about that. My whole family’s been witches. Except my dad. He was… different.”

She breathed out. “Well it’s out there now. At least we can stop pretending. How long have you known?”

He shrugged. He hadn’t expected her to be so casual about it. “Took me a bit to be sure but I suspected when I walked through the door. You got wards or something on the house, right? They’re heavy stuff but I can’t feel ‘em much anymore.”

“Yeah well, we had to fiddle with them since you started living here,” she sighed.

“Have to say, you aren’t what I expected from witches. Where’s all the pentagrams and the cauldrons and the toad eyes?” Tony chuckled. “No demon worshiping altar, either? Not even broomsticks?”

He drew his chair and sat at the table to get a first bite of his meal. After a first nibble he smiled broadly. Roy really knew how to make good pasta. Tess had fetched a broom and pan and was sweeping up the broken plate.

“Oh yeah, because it’s such a great idea, flailing through the air astride _this_ piece of shit,” she scoffed, brandishing the broomstick at him momentarily and he chuckled. “Anyway, do you think we’re morons, just advertising what we are? But we… we don’t truck with demons. We know better.”

He stared at her with a hard gaze. “Oh yeah? You’re the nice witches, then?” he asked, with air quotes.

She scowled at him as she threw the plate shards into the trash. “Put it that way, if you want. But like I said, we know better. Witches that get mixed with demons don’t end well. Which you, in particular, should probably know. You’re _half-demon_ , aren’t you?”

Tony sat back in his chair and his eyebrows bowed up a little. He expected from witches to suss these things out, but he was still a bit impressed and her blunt manner. Tit for tat, it seemed. “Bingo. How’d you work it out?” he asked casually. “And how come you’re not scared of me?”

He suspected that the cryptic looks she gave him some times and her earlier behavior, her hostility and her curiosity, might’ve been because of this. He had to give her kudos for her fearlessness though.

“It’s actually not easy to tell,” she said, grabbing another plate for herself. “But I can see auras. Yours isn’t human but not demonic either. I’ve heard that hybrids… happen sometimes.”

She stacked some food on her plate. “Funny enough your aura’s actually kinda… _nice_ to look at.”

Tony had resumed eating but again paused, fork hovering in front of his face. “Heh, careful there Twig, you sound interested.”

She rolled her eyes at him and sat at the table with her plate. “Yeah, don’t get your hopes up,” she said coolly. Then she picked at her food. “It’s just different. I’ve learned to tell different beings apart and yours is just unusual. I mostly _guessed_ what you were. But you didn’t answer. What _exactly_ gave us away?”

Tony shrugged again and answered around a full mouth. “You did.”

Tess nibbled at her food. “How?”

He swallowed. “Besides all the wards you folks got, it feels funny standing near you. And just this evening,” he said, pointing his empty fork at her, “you were muttering shit after I caught you snooping, Miss Nose. Not even an hour later, I feel something grabbing my ankle and almost kissed the floor. I don’t _do_ the clumsy shit and I think I know what magic feels like.”  

Tess bit her lip guiltily but was smirking a bit. “That could’ve been a coincidence.”

“Fuck off, you know you’re full of shit now,” he scoffed. “You must’ve cursed me!”

She smiled more. “I was pissed; it got a bit out of hand.”

“And you know about Bloodgoyles by name and you’re not surprised I can see them – which meant you can too,” he said smugly. “But what I don’t understand is that funny little fainting episode of yours. If you dismiss it as some kind of PMS thing, then I’m Elvis.”

Tess sighed and after a moment, put her fork down on her plate. “About that… You felt it too, I think. Something is going on in that area.”

Tony glanced at her hand, curled tight around a napkin to the point where her knuckles were going white. He slowed his eating and they just stared at each other. To Tony, the experience of someone actually being on the same page as him was new. He nodded slowly.

“Yup. I went back to check. There were Bloodgoyles behind the store, or singular, at any rate. I don’t know why and I don’t know how. And where there’s one, there’s always more.”

Tess listened to him and then shut her eyes and breathed out what sounded like a sigh of relief. He got the feeling that they were now starting to take each other seriously. “Yeah,” she said and opened her eyes. “Actually, they’ve turned up in other places too. Most people can’t even see them – even some witches can’t see them properly. What’s strange is that they aren’t attacking. They just… sit and watch. It’s eerie. Like they’re looking for something.”

She gulped. “But every time they’ve shown up, something terrible has happened nearby. I think something will happen at the store. Something bad. I…”

She hesitated. “I think I saw it.”    

Tony suppressed a smirk. How cheesy. But he could hardly deny that the Bloodgoyles were there. “Saw what, exactly?”

She stopped eating again and looked away, her face turning red. “I… Look, you’ll call me crazy, but besides seeing auras I can see things others don’t. I know things when there’s no reason why I should.”

She stared at him. “You have two guns. One black, one white. You call them Ebony and Ivory.”

Now Tony stopped eating and stared. He tried to school his face into a look of amused boredom. “Fascinating,” he said flatly.

He resumed eating and wondered, had he made some mistake? He was never shy about his guns but he was pretty sure he hadn’t actually shown them to anyone since he arrived here, let alone disclosed their names.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “They’re good names, unlike ‘Tony’.”

Tony stopped chewing.

She tilted her head. “Oh come on, every time the name is said, your aura goes all funny. And it… it sounds wrong. It’s obviously _not_ your real name. We’re getting all this outta the way, might as well be done with it. What are you _really_ called? It can’t be worse than Tony.”

The boy just stared. He put his fork down without really looking and stared at her, apprehensive and uncertain. He hadn’t thought of his real name for a long time. It was safer to give out a false name; it threw a lot of trouble off his trail. And his real name carried far, _far_ too much pain for him to bear it freely. 

“So you’re… the real deal, huh,” he managed. “Clairvoyant or whatever they call it.”

Tess cringed. “I don’t care what people call it. It’s a pain in the ass,” she muttered, looking away. “Everyone who finds out thinks I’m crazy – assuming they even believe me. Even witches with this ‘sight’ shouldn’t be able to gleam as much as I do. They don’t… they don’t get the visions I do without some messed up things.”

She stared at her plate. “…I’m sorry if I sounded pushy. You don’t need to tell me anything.”

And he was pretty certain she meant it.

 _“Honesty, huh…”_ he thought.

“…It’s Dante,” he muttered and she looked up.

“Like…the poet?” she blinked, tilting her head.

“Yeah,” he grumbled.

“Huh. Yeah. It sounds right, now,” she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You know, I like it better.”

He managed a hesitant simper. “Careful, ya sound like you like me.”

She cringed at him but it did not hide a small smile. Dante took a deep breath. Somehow, getting that out… it felt good. Better than he thought it would. “So… you fainted back then because you saw something,” he said, picking up his fork and resuming eating.

She mimicked him and they both just ate and talked. Probably the most normal thing he had done in a very long time. It felt like a wall had crumbled and he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. He felt… exposed. But then again, so was she. She looked awkward but at the same time, better.

“Yeah, well…” she muttered and pushed her pasta around a bit. “I won’t lie; it’s not something I can just control. It’s like… it shows me whatever _it_ wants. I never know what’s going to set it off. It could be people touching me, or an object or a place or just… something happening.”

“Like when that maybe Bloodgoyle showed up.”

“Yeah.”

“So why did you faint?”

She sighed. “The visions… hurt. They’re too much, even the brief ones, but that one was big. I saw… I saw blood seeping out from under the door of the store. And as I watched… the glass windows just filled with overlapping palm prints, in red. I felt sick.”

She shuddered visibly and Dante tilted his head. He let out a small whistle. “Well that’s not blunt,” he huffed. “Sounds like I’m gonna have to go have a look. And I have a sneaking feeling you’re telling me all this because you plan on tagging along.”

Tess shrugged with a tart smile. “Yeah. It’s uh… better than showing up unannounced. I really must be nuts, deciding to follow a half-demon, essentially into what might be a lion’s den. But fuck it… if something’s going on, I can’t sit on my thumbs.”   

He scoffed. “Well aren’t you a little goodie-two-shoes.”

“Fuck off, it’s practically at my goddamn doorstep and my grandmother would rather hide her head in the sand and pretend our wards will last forever,” the girl growled.

He smirked. “No, I get you. But I don’t know… chasing after demons isn’t for humans.”

“Hey, I’m a witch. I have tricks up my sleeve,” she protested. “If need be… you’ll see what I mean.”

“You’re still a skinny Twig.”

“And I have doubts as to your marksmanship with that nose blocking your field of vision.”

They stared each other down with something almost like amused vitriol but then, almost on  cue, both failed to check mutually sneaky smiles.

“Okay, okay, I guess we can stop the grandstanding and finish eating,” Dante chortled.

“Heh, yeah,” she conceded.

Just as they both polished off their dishes, she tilted her head at him. “Hey… wanna see what your aura looks like? I need to take something with me before we go anyway, so I might as well show you my ‘witch’s lair’. Better for privacy, anyway…”

Dante was caught off guard by her question but it fired his curiosity. If nothing else, this could be a learning opportunity. “Sure. How are you gonna do that?”

She shot up from her chair. “Follow me.”

He pushed up from his chair and, between curiosity and wariness, followed the redhead. A few days ago he wouldn’t have dreamed of trusting a witch enough to follow her, let alone tell her his name. But now all this had happened and suddenly it was by far the least strange thing he had done today. 

 


	4. The Madman in The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a half-demon and a witch get into a fight and then into real trouble.

Dante glanced out of a window as they climbed the stairs; the sun had just gone down and twilight was spreading across the sky. Tess climbed the stairs, taking the steps two by two almost, looking livelier than Dante had ever seen her. He couldn’t tell whether it was out of amusement or relief at the drop of their façades. But it looked good on her. 

They headed straight for the unoccupied top floor of the building – more of the same hallways dotted with doors. She tugged him towards a spot where the hallway turned sharply to the rest of the building and crouched beside a small, innocuous-looking little door fitted into the corner.

“You asked about cauldrons and stuff. Well, I’m about to show you my little den so try to act a little honored,” she chuckled and extracted a small skeleton key from her jeans pocket and unlocked the small door. “Also, duck.”

Dante squinted at her as he crouched and ducked under the small door. On the inside wall, he noticed some wards written in what looked like charcoal. He felt something like soft vibrations from them. They clambered up a very narrow set of wooden steps up into the building’s attic right under the gabled roof. It was a wide space, but cluttered with cardboard boxes, shelves and old furniture, some covered in sheets. It was less dusty than he’d expected and he quickly realized that there was a definite method to the arrangement of everything. It created a kind of wall that Tess ducked around to come to a cleared space under a dormer window, blocked off on one side by a large wardrobe that was missing one panel. There was a small reading nook created with sheets and a table lamp under the window where a thick carpet and some pillows were thrown. Some books were arranged neatly next to it, and a small table covered in marks and a chair stood nearby.

“Grams knows better than to come up here. I need the privacy,” Tess sighed. “Give me a moment.”

She wandered vaguely over towards a few pieces of covered furniture and after a moment’s hesitation, pulled the sheet off one. It was a large, ornate mirror, the glass surface just barely clouded with age; the bronze frame was a beautiful, ornate design in the style of _art nouveau_ , covered in verdigris. The wooden legs were varnished, dark and finished with bronze fittings. The design was so fluid that it looked like no mold had been used, like it had simply grown out of its own volition. Tess grunted a little as she drew it closer to the light by the window.

“One more thing…” she muttered and rummaged around the pillows in the reading nook.

Dante scrutinized the books; some were pretty mundane but a few were very old, bound in leather and had no titles. He could imagine her sitting there, reading tomes of magic. He’d never actually witnessed witchcraft so he had no idea what to expect. She returned by the mirror with a small leather scabbard that she drew an inconspicuous-looking dagger out of. The blade was a bit crude, the surface slightly tarnished with age and an almost clumsy-looking black handle like smoked wood, worn smooth with use. Metal inlays on the handle shaped like triplicate moons were the only ornament.

Even so, Dante felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck prickle up and he felt a little tense. It looked so small and innocent but even so, it felt old and somehow, potent. She held it confidently like an old friend.

“It’s safe,” she said as if she read his tension – which she probably did. “It’s a consecrated dagger. It’ll cut but do us no harm.”

She studied him for a long moment, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “I’ve done this before. It’s the only way Grams would believe me about the auras. I’m going to make the mirror show you what I see. But um… I need a little bit of your blood. Like a few drops,” she said.

Dante narrowed his eyes and looked at her sideways. “This isn’t gonna backfire on me, is it?” he warned her.

“No, it won’t. I mean, I’m gonna be cutting my own hand too so hey, if anything goes wrong I’m the first who’s gonna feel it,” she said impatiently. “Come on, gimmie your hand. Smear a bit on the mirror when it’s cut.”

Dante cautiously offered his hand, bracing himself for whatever was coming, fully prepared to give her a thorough butt-kicking in case this turned into a trap of sorts. Tess attempted a shallow but long cut across his palm… just to watch it heal itself within the next few seconds and she stared at it dumbly.

“Oh. Well that complicates things,” she said. “Kind of cool, though.”

Dante smiled wryly. “Actually, I’m surprised it even took that long to heal, your magic knife bites,” he said, shaking his hand and then gesturing for the knife. “Here, let me do it.”

“Jeez, don’t call it that,” she said, handing him the knife.

She watched him close his hand around the blade and draw it deeply into his palm with a wince. The blade really did hurt, more than any mundane blade that had ever cut into him. Blood brimmed around the blade and Dante had to actually fight back the urge to call this entire thing quits. He wasn’t used to seeing or smelling his own blood so casually – it brought up unhappy thoughts. But he swiped his hand over the glass surface and by the time he pulled his hand back, it was already healed. Tess wiped the blade with a piece of cloth and made a shallow cut in her hand, smearing it on the mirror too. The ferric smell tickled Dante’s nostrils. He perked up suddenly and didn’t know why, his jaw sagging slightly. That smell...he found himself _drawn_ to it. It smelled… sweet.

Tess’ soft murmur of what sounded like a spell snapped him out of that thought. There was a definite rhythm to the way she spoke the words, almost like they curled at the edges. Dante tilted his head, trying to sense the magic. All he felt was a tingle, like someone breathed against his skin. The mirror’s surface seemed to tremble momentarily and the blood smeared on it, just starting to run, melted into the glass.

“So… did it work?” he asked.

“Well if you don’t look, you’re not gonna see,” she said, nudging him towards the mirror.

Dante tilted his head and scrutinized his reflection in the mirror. He almost balked; he thought he’d seen auras before, but they were always demonic ones, visible when the demons were making their intentions crystal clear. And yet… this looked different but at the same time, appropriate; as seamless a part of his appearance as his hair.

His aura was a deep crimson red, with lighter and darker streaks marbled through it, rippling like water. It seemed to pulse gently, but something in its appearance belied the potent demonic nature slumbering beneath. He angled himself to catch a look of hers. Tess’ aura looked… like moonlight through clouds. It hovered and danced lightly around her, halfway between haze and flames. Little iridescent, glowing points of light floated in it like light glinting off fragments of shattered glass, rising and sinking in murky waters. It was kind of pretty. The difference was interesting. Hers was lighter and wispy, almost hiding from direct observation. It flowed rather than pulsed, whereas his was more defined and curled around him in sharp, fast turns.

A lopsided smile crept up his lips. It wasn’t often that he was surprised like this.

“Told you it was worth seeing,” Tess said, smiling at his expression. “Human auras aren’t like this. Just glowing outlines, they look like weak sunlight; never this bright and vibrant. Demons’ auras are weird, they look different and they’re usually ugly.”

He glanced at her and saw her looking in the mirror; she looked… distracted as she talked.

“My dad had the most beautiful one I ever remember seeing,” she said suddenly. “It was like pure sunlight, but it never blinded you to watch. It was huge too, it wouldn’t settle. He’d walk in a room and everything would glow.”

Even as the words left her mouth, Tess stopped abruptly, turned away and shrugged defensively. Dante sensed that she had gotten carried away. As he watched the mirror, the auras began to fade – the spell started to wear off. She turned away and rummaged through a small box on the table. She wiped her bloodied hand and wrapped a bandage from the box around it. She avoided his gaze and Dante felt he knew that look.

He opened his mouth to speak when she turned around quickly with something like a forced, embarrassed smile. She had accidentally shared something apparently deeply personal with him and he was unsure how to respond to it.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “If… this all feels like too much to digest. I’ve never been able to talk with anyone about these things. It’s just… nice not having to hide.”

Dante just nodded. For once, he felt like he was grasping for something to say. He wasn’t used to being frank with people like this, either. They were both silent for a bit and she started to curl a lock of her hair around her finger nervously.

“So… are you still planning to investigate the store?” she ventured at last.

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Look you don’t need to come—“

“No, I want to. I won’t get in your way.”

He breathed out. She was pretty stubborn. “Fine, I just gotta grab something from my room,” he said and turned around to leave the attic. “But you know… I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who was cool with what I am, either.”

With that, he hurried out of the attic. “C’mon, I’ll wait outside my room.”

As he headed for his room, he huffed and ran his fingers through his hair. He wasn’t sure why he was being so honest now. He normally never cared for the personal stuff of others and preferred they stay out of his. But this sudden bout of honesty… he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

He slipped into his room and threw on his guns holsters, then picked up the guitar case from the corner. He wasn’t sure if he’d even need it, but he felt… naked without it in these situations. He slung the case over his shoulder and stepped out. Tess was waiting by the stairs, looking a bit distracted. She perked up as he came towards her.

“If Roy’s downstairs and asks any questions, just act like nothing’s going on, let me do the talking,” she told him quietly as she started down the stairs.

Dante just shrugged and ambled on after her. Roy was indeed at his post in the lobby, doing some paperwork at his desk. He looked up at the sound of their feet on the stairs and quirked an eyebrow.

“Not bickering, I see. Is this a truce?” he asked them.

“Just taking him to the store to pay his tab off,” Tess said.

Roy’s eyes narrowed. “…The two of you? At this hour?”

“Did that become illegal between lunch and dinner?” she snapped back. “Shop’s closing and we don’t want them getting in a huff about our tenants.”

Roy regarded them coolly, his gaze travelling from Tess to Dante, then back at her. “Just take your coat, it’s freezing outside.”

“Sure, byeeee~” she said in a hurry, snatching the article in question from the coat rack by the door and ushered Dante out the door, shutting it behind her.

The weather was windy and bitterly cold, the lack of light making it all the worse. Dante tugged the lapels of his coat further up and Tess shrugged against the fluffy lining of her coat. They set off towards the shop but as they did, he smirked at her.

“Oh, I should probably warn you,” she said. “Roy’s our _familiar_. He gets all bent out of shape about me poking my nose into things like this. He knows you’re half-demon, but he’d lose his shit if he knew I told you I’m a witch and—what?” she stopped, catching his smirk.

He scoffed at her. “So much for letting you do the talking. What was _that_?” he chuckled.

“Aw shut up, I don’t want Roy to get worried,” she muttered. “He’s not fun when he’s worried and then he blows his lid off and that’s _not_ pretty.”

Dante chuckled. “He’s probably onto us already.”

She rolled her eyes. “We’ll be fine. He might think we’re up to sneaky stuff but not _this_. I don’t want him to tell Grams anything. She… won’t react well.”

Then she flicked her gaze at the guitar case. “You’ve… got some kind of weapon in there.”

He hid the mild amusement at her ability to sense his sword, Rebellion, and shrugged. “And if I do?”

She blinked. “Nothing.”

Dante shrugged and left it at that. It was a quiet night and there was nobody on the streets. He was used to the cold but he noticed that Tess seemed to be suffering a bit, and shrugged into her coat every time the wind would whip at her hair. The store was strangely dark when they got there, a mere couple of weak lights still on inside. They passed right by the front door and directed themselves to the fenced off alley.

“Huh, seems quiet enough,” he observed.

“Right? But there must be something left of the Bloodgoyles that were here,” she said. “Let’s have a look.”

Dante was preparing to vault over the chain link fence once more but he blinked and pushed at the door hesitantly. It swung open. The padlock that had been on it earlier was gone, and they found it on the ground, broken.

“That can’t be good,” he muttered.

They warily moved into the alley and almost stepped into puddles of congealing blood. There were a lot more this time.

“Was there this much earlier?” Tess asked quietly.

“No,” Dante muttered and crouched down over one. “And this ain’t human.”

“Look, there’s more over there,” she said. “It looks like there was more than—“

The loud thud, like a heavy piece of furniture falling over with a crash cut her short. The crash of glass mad them both tense and a muffled wail from beyond the wall made them both look at each other.

“Come on!” she snapped and tugged at his arm while already heading for the back door of the shop.

The lock was broken and the door-handle hung out of its socket, useless and broken. The door swung open far too easily when Tess pushed it. She had barely looked in when she backed up with a muffled squeak as she clapped her hands over her mouth, trying to hold back a louder noise. Dante grunted impatiently and pushed past her.

Blood painted the walls. Irregular patterns of arterial spurts formed a delicate impressionist pattern on the ceiling. In front of the door, like a twisted idea of a welcoming gift, lay a severed arm, in a small pool of red, its fingers frozen in a desperate clutch. Tess had almost stepped on it earlier.

Dante's eyes narrowed as he scanned the space; more blood and a mess of merchandise littered the floor of the dark store. Most of the lights on the ceiling were smashed, with only a couple still flickering weakly with dim life. The old woman of the tobacco stand hung over her counter, headless. Her head stared at them dumbly from the floor just beyond the arm, all the way across the damn shop. What looked like her leg was peeking out of an isle to their left. Curious symbols, crude runes and what amounted to nonsensical rambling were scrawled in blood at seemingly random places.

The entire scene looked like it had sprung out of the mind of a paperback horror writer.

The noise made them both almost jump. The repeated, wet _Shuck! Shuck! Shuck!_ of a blade carving into flesh. A low, tired giggle. Dante’s jaw set and he gestured to Tess and drew one of his guns. With the other hand, he unzipped the top of the guitar carrier, leaving him with easy access to the blade hiding within.

“Keep behind me,” he almost mouthed. 

The scent of blood and death in the air made his skin tingle strangely. They advanced into the darkened store and peered around an isle. There, between the cereal and the coffee packets, a man was bent over another figure, madly stabbing away at the body with a large carving knife. Dante narrowed his eyes as he stepped into the middle of the isle, taking in the scene with all the perturbation of someone who’d spilled some milk. He was far too used to these kinds of sights when demons were involved. He was still unsure if this was one of those cases or just a deranged human.

That would churn his stomach in a different way.

He was surprised Tess wasn’t making much of a noise and when he glanced back at her she was just cringing with an expression of disgust and fear but she was keeping it together pretty good.

It was all too late for the lunatic’s unfortunate victim; Dante _thought_ he recognized him as the pharmacy clerk, but he was just too mutilated from all the blows to be sure. The murderer was clutching the large knife in a big but bony-looking hand and stabbing almost mindlessly, lowly chuckling with endless amusement.

Surprisingly quietly, Dante walked right up to the man and pointed his gun at the back of his head.

“Alright Chuckles, playtime’s over,” he said coldly. “Turn around, let’s have a look at’cha.”

The man stopped dead, holding the dripping knife up overhead mid-strike. He was breathing hard in ragged gasps. Suddenly he whirled around with unexpected speed, slapped the gun aside and with the same fluid motion sliced viciously at Dante’s neck. Tess blurted a shriek as the man broke into another hysterical laugh. Dante dropped to a knee, hand at his throat, blood seeping through his fingers. He coughed out a vague gurgling noise.

The slasher stared down at the fallen teenager for a moment, then looked up at the girl in such a maddened way that Tess found herself stumbling backwards and into a shelf of cleaning products on sale.

The man was tall and gaunt, dressed in tattered and filthy dark clothes; torn and frayed trousers and a stained shirt unbuttoned over a wife beater, flapping like bat wings as he moved. He looked wild, with greasy brown hair and pale, sickly-looking skin that clung to his almost fleshless skull. His nose had burst sometime in the recent past, sending streams of blood over his mouth, now crusted and congealed. He tilted his head and stared her down with huge, bulged eyes in sunken sockets. He grinned widely at her with yellowed teeth set in rotting gums.

The man still breathed heavily, his shoulders rising and falling hard, and he started moving towards the girl.

“Nice try, Chruckles. But how ‘bout we try this again,” Dante snarled, standing up. “Better put that down before ya hurt yourself.”

The teenager looked good and angry now, wiping his bloodied hand on his shirt, revealing his neck to be unharmed. Tess stared at him dumbly for a moment, then let out a relieved breath and snatched a large bottle of detergent which she flung straight at the man’s head. It knocked him back and off balance, giving the girl a chance to further back away from him. She was hesitant, watching the man’s aura and trying to interpret what she was seeing. It did not look human and she couldn’t understand why. It flickered erratically between human and something dark and, ugly like sooty smoke. Dante also hesitated to just blow this loon’s brains out with his guns, without knowing what the heck was going on. He’d seen possessed people before and this wasn’t the same.

The man righted himself and then fidgeted away from Dante drunkenly. “N-no. Nonononono—it’s mine. _Mine!_ I neeeeeeed my t-tools,” he hissed. “My patients… my patients need my skills.”

His large hand tightened around the blade, the veins on the side of his head bulging even in the low light.

“YOU ARE IN NEED OF CARE TOOOOOO!!!” the man howled and unexpectedly rammed into Dante, one hand closing around the boy’s shoulder. “BUT D-DON’T WORRY! I have it all under controlllll—I’m a master surgeon, we’ll have this TRANSPLANT finished in no time!”

Dante grunted and found himself knocked into the floor on his back. He still had a tight hold around his gun but the way he was pinned made it awkward to bend his arm right to fire. The man had a vice-grip of truly inhuman strength that surprised Dante and he swung his fist at the man’s face to try and shove him off to no avail. A blow that would’ve knocked a man out in one just bounced off his head with an awful crack.

“DO-d-do try to relax—and enjoy the rest of this exTREmely SKILLful operation,” the man rambled.

He pressed his knee across Dante’s chest and swung the knife back over his head, his maniacal laugh rising in both pitch and volume.

“Enough!!” Tess shouted.

She ran forward, moving her arm as though she had thrown something. Dante wanted to shout at her to back away when a luminescence blossomed along the arc of her arm. Even before it reached its apex, it grew into a tongue of brilliant flame. It hurled forth like a whip’s lash and caught the man across the back, setting his clothes and the back of his head on fire. Dante smelled burning hair and flesh and heard the light sizzle of skin. The man screamed, fell backwards and thrashed, rolling around – _still_ holding the knife, screaming his head off.

“AAAAH!! It burns! IT BURNS!” he howled, with among hysterical laughs of shock. “Not again, not again, _not again_!! Gracious fires of Hell! Pretty flames—no more! Enough paaaaain! Pleeeeeeeasssse, pleassssssssse…! I must proceed with the operation!!!”

Dante rolled himself to his feet, blinking at what he’d just seen, but then smirked. “You’ve been holdin’ out on me, Twig!”

The man put out the fire by rolling and beating the flames out, knocking over a shelf of dry foods and was now crouching like an animal about to pounce. He was hunched over, breathing raggedly and his eyes now had a definite pinprick of yellow glow.

Tess was panting from mixed excitement and fear. “Save it! I have no idea what’s wrong with this guy! He’s not possessed but his aura is all _fucked up_!”

The man cackled madly and tilted his head, staring right at her. Tess watched his eyes suddenly turn into yellow slits and he suddenly surged forth, scattering blood and body parts and whole grain cereal, coming to an abrupt stop to tower over her. He had moved incredibly quickly and Tess heard the joints of his knees crackle and pop with every rapid step. She froze up and just stared back, watching the man’s aura become fully ‘invaded’ with the inky blackness.

“Pretty…eyes…pretty…pretty...jewels…crystals…” he muttered rapidly and reached out with his bloody hand as if to touch her face. “Perfect. _Perfect._ Perfect! PERFECT!!!”   

Tess haphazardly backed up against the shelf behind her, knocking over cereal boxes as she found herself cornered and whatever bravery and power she had seemed to drain out of her from fright. She whimpered quietly.

And then Dante arrived.

He swung his fist hard, connecting with the side of the man’s head with another awful crack. Bones undoubtedly had broken in the process and yet it was Dante who grunted in pain quietly, while the man reeled sideways, just spitting out broken, bloodied teeth.

“Try someone your own size, Chuckles!” the boy snapped.

Tess ducked out of the middle of that and looked back just to catch the madman turn back around and scream at them. His open mouth revealed jagged fangs growing among his teeth and his tongue turning black and bloated. Dante raised his gun and fired a couple of shots into the man, just to watch incredulously as his target rapidly dodged each bullet, darting from place to place with a preternatural speed, carelessly knocking down a shelf as he went.

Tess ducked out of the way. “Dante, watch out!! He’s—“

And just like that, the lunatic was on Dante, backhanding the boy with a mighty swing and an ugly _thwack!_ of the knife’s handle connecting to Dante’s temple. The young man was knocked on the floor and then yanked back up as the madman snatched him by the ankle. The guitar case slid off his shoulder and clattered loudly on the ground. He gasped in surprise to find himself suspended upside down with his arms dangling weakly over his head.

The boy grunted irritably. “Hah, it’s been a while since small shit like you gave me trouble!”

The madman laughed, his voice gradually warping into something inhuman and shrill.

“You! Are! Not! COOPERATING!” he howled. He swung back the arm holding the knife and aimed it right at Dante’s chest.

Tess again assaulted the madman with a lash of flame, burning a large swath across his back. He arched in pain, screaming but still didn’t let go of Dante’s ankle. As the singed skin peeled away, dark, oily scales bloomed underneath.

She froze as realization sunk in. “Dante, he’s—he’s _turning_ into a demon!”  

That’s all Dante really needed to hear. There was no saving this guy and he was already getting pretty angry about this entire debacle. Sure, a life of being pursued by demons made very encounter with a new type a learning experience but they were rarely this… graceless. He bent upwards and aimed his gun right at the man’s chin, firing off a shot almost at point blank range. The gun roared and the man finally let go of Dante, who braced against the floor on his hands, turned and got to his feet, snatching up the large broadsword from out of the guitar case. He twirled it expertly in one hand and secured it to his back. He expected to see the madman’s head in pieces but instead he was met with the furious creature bullrushing him. Not even a lash of flames from below stopped him and Tess cried out as the man practically flung himself at the teenager.

Dante holstered his gun and just managed to catch his armed hand by the wrist and deflect it, but the last thing he expected was the man to furiously bite into his shoulder. He blurted a pained shout because the teeth were too sharp and he was all but smothered by a foulness that he couldn’t quite describe and yet with which he was familiar with. The taint of demonic powers hung potently about the man, like an oppressive, invisible fug. This direct, demonic attack awoke something dark and angry in the teenager. Dante grit his teeth and all but snarled, his still young demonic instincts rebelling at the attack.

Tess was trying to find the right angle to attack without burning Dante when she saw it. Dante’s aura, already agitated from the fight, suddenly seemed to expand with a wild pulse, straining against some invisible binds that kept it from flaring into a full, furious rage. It curled and twisted like a beast itching for a fight and it almost flickered liquid and fully visible for a split-second. The feeling of it hit her in the chest like a hammer and the witch stumbled backwards, startled.

Instinct screamed at her to flee, reminded her that witches who meddled with demons tended to have short, painful lives. _“What… is he?”_

With an angry shout that carried a trill of demonic snarl in its edges, Dante snatched his large blade and spun it round, slamming the pointed pommel into the gut of the demonic madman. The impact was thunderous and forced his attacker back. With a clear view, Tess lashed out again, searing the creature across the face, scorching a wide path from the jaw to the roots of the hair, making it howl in rage. A normal human might’ve already succumbed to the amount of punishment this creature had taken. Not this thing though, it just stumbled back and regrouped, snarling and cackling like a monstrous hyena. Dante dropped into a stance, grinning almost _devilishly_ and cheekily put a hand out and _taunted it._

“C’mon, Chuckles, is that really all you got?” he sneered.

By now any traces of humanity had abandoned the demonic madman; his hands had turned into long, bony paws that curled around the knife awkwardly. His face was warped from the blows and the slow shift, a wide, saw-like grin with nails of teeth poking out at odd angles. He hunched, his gait now more of a strange creeping motion and with every small motion something in his torso crunched. He shifted and a grotesque, cloudy eye peeled itself open in his abdomen, spun around curiously and fixed itself ahead. A mouth grinned open above it, rows of needles stacked closely together, opening and closing slowly with no sound.

The being breathed hard; it crouched low like an animal and its gaze, bilious and yellow, darted between the two teenagers.

“ssSsSSSsssoOOoooo…PPPPPrrrhhHHeEeTTtYYyyy EYeS!” it rasped. “Yeeeeees, they are… sssssooo… preeeeetty… preeeeetty!!”

Dante did not want to give this thing a chance to act on that fixation and rushed headlong towards it, drawing his sword. He plunged it deep into the demon’s back, pinning it to the floor with a loud crack of concrete. He crashed the heel of his foot into the flailing thing’s back and drew one of his guns. He slammed the muzzle into the back of the demon’s head and fired several loud shots until the head simply vanished, splattering into the linoleum in bloodied pieces. The body remained twitching as a curious shade seemed to rise from the body, long and lean like a lizard.

It was thin as a rail and quivered like ink spreading in water, hunched over deeply. There was no definitive shape, just a vague darkness with only the slightest hint of skeletal arms. It seemed to billow and stretch from the twitching body up and trying to spread through the space. Two cruel eyes seemed to open, smoky apertures that stared endlessly and it made a strange, keening sort of cackle. It curled like a spring and suddenly lunged towards Tess, making the girl scream and back away. A burst of fire engulfed the shade before it could reach her. She tripped over a dead body and fell backwards onto her ass, crawling backwards and scrambling to get up. The shade cackled angrily and started to evaporate, the fire trailing all the way back to the twitching corpse as though following an accelerant, bursting the whole thing into flames.

Dante grinned in deep satisfaction at the outcome. He did not see how the grin darkened his icy eyes and barely noticed that his tongue ran over teeth that turned sharp.

“It’s dead… right?” Tess quavered, still on the floor, edging away from a congealing pool of blood.

Dante didn’t reply immediately. As the fire died down, he twirled his gun and tucked it away under his coat and flexed his shoulder a little, sighing in satisfaction. He then grasped the hilt of his sword, the darkened sockets of the skull on the cross-guard gleaming in the light of the flame. He drew his sword out of the corpse with a soft crackle of cinders as the charred body started to cave in. He lazily spun it over and snapped up the soft guitar case from the floor, secreting the sword in it before hoisting it on his back again. He then sauntered over towards Tess.

“Sure is,” he said cheekily and offered her a hand to help her stand. His twisted smirk remained though.

She didn’t take his hand, just stared up at him – _stared him down_ , actually, in hesitation, in wariness… but not fear.

“What, you scared, Twig?” he challenged her.

This. This was the moment when sane people abandoned ship, drove him away and fled.

Instead, her eyes narrowed fiercely and she grabbed his hand to pull herself up. “No,” she snapped. “I get it, demons like fights. I guess that goes for you too.”

He held his arms out, still smirking. “A fight now and then makes life interesting, sweetheart!”

She just squinted at him, unimpressed. He snorted at her bravado. Sure, he could sense she was being very wary of him now but she really wasn’t afraid. He couldn’t decide if that was stupid or gutsy. He didn’t exactly regret making her uneasy.

“We should go,” she snapped. “We’re bound to have attracted unwanted attention.”

“Yup,” he conceded and they both hurried for the back door.

He cast a last glance at the sorry spectacle of the space; bodies strewn about, bloody patterns everywhere, scorch marks and serious damage around a charred body in the middle of a demolished space among the shelves. The cops were gonna have their work cut out for them.

Standing in the alley, in the cold air, among the congealing puddles of blood seemed to sober Dante up in a hurry. They hesitated and stared at each other; they were both covered in spatters of blood and Dante’s coat had all too definite signs of his attack on the shoulder. As the rush of battle left him, he started to think it might not be too wise to just march out on the street.

Tess mimicked his thoughts because she said: “This is bad; we can’t be seen like this.”

Dante clicked his tongue irritably. “Yeah, we’re right out of fashion,” he huffed. “You’re a witch, can’t you magic it off or something?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not your maid, and anyway there’s no spell for that stuff that I know of.”

Dante huffed. “Fine, then just make us invisible or something,” he replied impatiently.

She bit her lip and looked away. She mumbled. Dante quirked an eyebrow and stooped, getting in her face with his arms folded over his chest.

“What was that?” he asked pointedly.

“I said, I don’t know how to do that, either!” she grumbled, swatting at him as he stepped back. “There, I said it! I suck as a witch, happy now!?” she hissed.

He snorted at her attitude, rather than her inability and stood straight. “Heh, okay, okay, don’t have to bite, Twig.”

“Fuck off,” she muttered. “We still need to find a way to get back without being seen—“

Dante suddenly grabbed her arm and dragged her further back into the alley. “Quiet. Cops already…”

Tess heard the sirens that had first caught his attention at last. “Shit, what do we do?”

“Zip it and follow me,” Dante grunted quietly.

He spied a steel ladder attached to the wall of the building. He gave her a little push toward it, staring at the opening of the alley cautiously. The sounds of a police car or two were already getting closer. “Go, start going up!” he hissed.

“Fucking hell…” she muttered angrily.

She was nervous but climbed the ladder swiftly and he followed. Despite her small stature, she was agile and easily clambered up without hesitation.

“Hurry, the cop cars are pulling up,” she whispered to him. “Where the hell are we going to go?”

Dante grabbed her arm again and tugged her along, fixing on the fire escape stairs of the taller building beside them. Tess followed his gaze and nodded.

“I can make that jump,” she said.

“Good,” he grunted. “I’ll go first, catch you if needed.”  

He took a quick few bounds along the roof and jumped over, easily making it onto the fire escape. He turned just as she ran and nimbly jumped the distance. She grabbed the railing upon landing and used her legs to brace against it, then vaulted over. She looked comfortable with action despite her earlier fright. They quickly climbed the rest of the fire-escape to the roof of the building and peered over the edge down at the shop, the red and blue lights of the police cars flickering. They pulled up in front of the store and the pair silently agreed it was better to make a quick escape.

The nearest rooftop was at the same level… but separated by a street’s width and too high for Tess’ liking.

“We’re trapped,” she hissed.

“No we’re not, c’mere,” Dante muttered, looking at the rooftop. “It’s fine, I’ll get us over.”

Tess’ eyes widened. “No, screw you, I can’t—“

“D’you rather get caught!?” he grunted. “Stop fussing, I’ll get us outta here.”

He shifted the guitar case on his shoulders a bit and gestured. “C’mon, get on. Piggy-back.”

“I—“ Tess hesitated and he saw her _blushing_.

“C’mon, dammit!” he snapped. “It’s fine, you weigh like nothing.”

“Ugh, fine!” she grumbled and grabbing his shoulders, hopped on his back. “This is ridiculous…” she mumbled and held on.

Dante smirked and hoisted her up his back. “Yeah, yeah,” he chuckled. “You’re just excited you get to ride me,” he said suggestively.

“Fuck off,” she hissed back. “Let’s get this over with!”

His smirk remained. “Hold on to your panties, then!” he chuckled and made a dash for the edge.

He jumped the distance with ease and heard her whimper and hold on to him tighter as he fairly soared across. He landed with a thud and instead of stopping just kept going.

“Wait—“ Tess squeaked.

“Nuh-uh! Express to home base!” Dante chuckled.

He had to let go of her legs a few times to better preserve his balance and she responded by wrapping them around his waist and more or less, holding on for dear life. She yelped a few times across the entire run, which didn’t last more than a few minutes. Dante could already see the roof of the boarding house and directed himself to it. They finally stopped on the building rooftop beside the boarding house, she clambered off him awkwardly and he rolled his shoulders with a satisfied smirk.

“This is crazy,” she panted as they surveyed the fire escape of the building and the alleys below. “I suspected that demons were crawling around the city but… not like this. The news talked about some murders but I didn’t think...”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Dante scoffed. “Any other demon shit going on that you know of?”

Tess groaned. “I’m not sure. The city feels different lately, and I know Grams is worried but it could be what we just…dealt with,” she said quietly. “We’ve, um… had some fights about it. I thought we should do something.”

Dante shook his head. “If there’s one, there’s gonna be more. Your granny might have the right idea.”

“The hell she does, just refusing to see what’s happening under her nose,” she growled. “She thinks that if we just put up enough wards and stay out of sight, it’ll all go away.”

“Nice to know she’s someone we can count on,” Dante muttered. “Did any of those symbols in the place mean anything to you?”

Tess shook her head. “I don't know. I don’t think so. I might have to ask Roy. Knock it off,” she protested Dante’s little derisive snort. “I’m not a know-it-all. But that guy… I mean… he was human. I’m sure he was. His aura was… it looked infected and then suddenly he was turning into a demon.”

Dante huffed. She had a point. He’d never seen anything like that either – and he’d tangled with people who were actively seeking out demons. “Chuckles wasn’t a demonology expert, you got that right. Someone did that to him.”

The why didn’t concern Dante so much, as long as the thing was dead. He never questioned the reasoning of demons – he never made heads or tails of them, anyway. All he had to do, as usual, was sit tight and wait for the next opportunity.

“So… this could get ugly,” she sighed.

Dante gave a sidelong look. “No doubt about it, Twig.”

They stood in silence in the dark on the roof for a long moment, just loitering at the top of the fire escape.

“We should go,” she said. “Hopefully Grams is asleep. Roy might… understand if he catches us looking like this.”

They clambered down the fire escape as quietly as they could, descending into the street between the buildings. They skulked towards the back door and Tess unlocked the chain link fence and wooden door around the back yard of the building. They thought they were both pretty stealthy tiptoeing along the flagstones, but as they neared the back door, it swung open.

Roy was waiting for them. To say he was giving the kids a death glare is like saying the ocean has some water in it. Some glares make brave men shudder in fear. Some make it seem it’d be a jolly good idea to befriend a pack of hungry sharks than face what lay behind that withering look. Some glares are capable of dissuading an angry mob from venturing into a certain store where a prepared owner has waiting his entire life for this one glorious moment. Some can turn the fate of nations with a mere moment of eye-contact.

This glare was better than that.

This glare would make minor _gods_ shove their hands in their pockets and slink away.

Dante and Tess both stopped dead, staring up at the angry-looking Roy and, against all odds, both assumed the sidelong look kids get when they want nothing more than to slink away and are looking for an opportunity to do so. Dante _wanted_ to be angry at feeling nervous but honestly, Roy just looked pretty damn scary.

Seeing no ready escape route, Dante smiled a little awkwardly and ventured: “Uh, hey?”

Roy’s eyebrows twitched in such a way that Dante wouldn’t be surprised if somewhere, a small fault in the earth had given way and thousands of people had been crushed in the ensuing disaster.

“Come inside, you two,” he growled.

Tess let out a tiny yelp. “Uh-oh.”

He waited until the two walked inside. He waited like a granite statue as they trooped past him. Then he slammed the door shut.

“So, I hope you two have some good, _very_ good explanations for this little presentation here,” he growled after he turned around to face them. “And you better not even _try_ to fib. Oh and before I forget!” he added, turning to Dante with a scowl. “I’d like you to know that damages to the building are billed. You owe me a hundred dollars for the windows in your room, not to mention the rest of the mess in there.”

Dante started. “A—A hundred bucks?! For what?!”

“For whatever it is you’ve got up there that _reacted_ when, as I assume, you got a little out of hand,” Roy snapped at him. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you two saw a little action.”

Dante wasn’t sure exactly _what_ the old man meant but he was irritated all the same. “Come on, man!”

Roy’s glare silenced him. “Save it. You aren’t going to just weasel yourself out of it. You’re going to _work_ this one off,” he snapped, and then turned to Tess.

“And you!” he snapped, making the girl shrug defensively. “I expected a little more sense from you, young lady! Going and sticking your head into the lion’s den! Just because you two are a half-demon and a witch doesn’t change the fact that you’re bloody whelps!”

Dante’s eyebrow quirked upwards. Normally, being chewed out like that would’ve brought out his inherent rebelliousness and probably started a fight. But Roy sounded… genuinely concerned, actually, along with really angry. He wasn’t very surprised to hear that Roy knew exactly what he was, though – Tess had said that he was their familiar. However _that_ was supposed to work, anyway, because Roy felt… normal. Human.

Tess cringed at his barking but tried to keep calm. “We didn’t—“

“Back off, Roy,” Dante grunted, clicking his tongue. “We didn’t ask for any shit to go down, it came and found _us._ Some loon on a killfest turned into a demon right in front of us. Gimmie a break, what was I gonna do, sit on my thumbs? I dragged the Twig into it.”

Tess stared at him, jaw slack. Dante refused to look at her, asking himself why on earth he jumped to her defense. It wasn’t as if Roy would do anything worse than chew her out! Maybe. Roy arched an imperious eyebrow at the two of them and his lip twitched, as though fighting down a smirk.

“Your fault, is it?” he said with a soft, unnerving tone. “My dear boy, if this _was_ your fault indeed, I’d have your stuffed head on my wall already – and never underestimate me,” she snarled. “Tess never should’ve told you anything.”

“Oh bullshit,” Tess snapped, folding her arms and looking cross. “He’s lying. He didn’t drag me into anything. I followed him. Why do you care if I told him I’m a witch, anyway? It’s my business! It’s not like he’s gonna run off to tell anyone!”

Roy glared at her in turn. “I’m simply amazed that you would tell something so important to someone you hardly know. That he’s a half-demon really doesn’t matter.”

Dante grimaced. He had enough. He needed to know just how the hell Roy knew. “Okay, hold on. How the hell do _you_ know I’m a halfer, anyway?” he grunted, pointing an accusing finger at Roy. “You talked about my room – did you go snooping around?!”

“Don’t point your finger at me, son, it’s rude and I might bite it off,” Roy growled back, looking him right in the eye.

As his voice rumbled with a beastly tinge, his eyes glinted with an amber glow and when he blinked his eyes were distinctly cat-like. The surprise caught Dante off guard and he almost took a step backwards as his accusing finger dropped slowly; definitely not human!

The man snorted. “As if I would ever need to go through the lodgings of a guy just hitting puberty,” he scoffed. “I looked in your room when the mess happened. But honestly, all I needed to do was have a good look at you – and smell you. We djinn have sharp senses. And I know what demons smell like, even when it’s watered down with human blood.”

Dante blinked at him, resisting the urge to sniff himself curiously. “What the hell is a djinn?” he blurted.

Tess rolled her eyes at him. “Spirits of the natural world. He’s a spirit of sandstorms. Long story.”

“And not for the present,” Roy snapped. “I know what you’re thinking, boy. I’m not any kind of demon and yes, you can’t sense me. You may as well try to sense something out of _sand.”_

Dante blinked, somewhat unsettled at knowing that he had been living under the same room as an entirely unknown to him entity that he couldn’t even read. And as he scrutinized him, it hit him. “You… you’re the cat,” he said flatly. “I saw you the other day.”

Roy chuckled. “I’m amazed you noticed. Yes, I do assume the shape when I’m at my leisure. It’s more comfortable than a human shape.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, how about a last bit of honesty from you, son?”

Tess tilted her head at Roy and then glanced at Dante. “Dante, what’s he talking about?”

Dante just glared at him. “You got something to say, then out with it, old man,” he said sharply.

Roy narrowed his eyes at him. “Think about it. You’re a half-demon and I live and look after a family of witches. Witches and demons… now that never ends well,” he said. “So tell me, why would I even entertain the idea of letting you set foot in here, let alone _stay_ here, knowing that?”

Tess glanced from Dante to Roy. “Stop dancing around it, Roy. Out with it.”

Dante felt tension coiling in his stomach. He was sure he knew what was coming and it brought a deep scowl to his face.

“I don’t trust people easy, certainly not demons,” Roy said bluntly. “But so far, I think you’ve merited my trust and it’s _not_ because you seem a lot like your father. Tony, Dante, whatever the hell your name is. You’re _Sparda’s son_.”

Now, Dante was used to a lot of different reactions when that name came up. Vengeful rage, over-the-top reverence, shock and awe.

Instead, Tess’ eyes grew wide and she stared dumbly at Roy. She croaked out a quiet but _angry_ “…What?!”

Dante looked away irritably, fixing his gaze at the floor. If it wasn’t his behavior, it was his blood. If it wasn’t his blood, it was his heritage. This was why honesty and truth had never done well by him. They just brought him trouble upon trouble, unable to ever stay in one place too long. He didn’t even want any ‘special treatment’ that it might’ve gotten him. The very idea made him furious.

 _“Sparda this, Sparda that,”_ he thought angrily. _“I’ve had enough of the old bastard, dammit!”_

“So that’s how it works, huh?” he snapped. “You let me stay because you think I like coasting on my old man’s legacy?”

To his surprise, Roy shook his head with a somewhat angry smile. “Not at all. Sparda’s brat or no, you’re still an unknown quantity. I would’ve kicked you out the moment I was certain what you were, if _she_ didn’t say you should stay,” he added, nodding at Tess.

Tess started and ran her hands over her face, then clenched her fists so hard that her knuckles were going white. “Don’t you dare pin this on me, Roy,” she snarled.

Roy shrugged and Dante got the impression that he was almost enjoying this. “I’m not. You _did_ say he could stay and you _did_ argue that turning him away was unfair. You knew nothing.”

Tess glared at him and actually stamped her foot. “You never _said_ anything!

“Said what, that I’m half-demon and my old man is a fairy tale?” Dante snarked. “What, would that have made a difference? This isn’t even _your_ place!”

He was good and angry now.

“I don’t--!” she started, turning at him and snarling. “I _knew_ you were a halfer, didn’t I? I can see your aura, you idiot! I said you should stay because _I’m a halfer too_ and I know how it feels like!!” she shouted at him and Dante shut his mouth suddenly. “I’m not half-demon – fuck, I don’t even understand what half thing I am! I just thought it wasn’t fair to kick you out!”

Then she whirled around at Roy even as Dante blinked at her. “But you!! You’re supposed to tell me things like that! What kinda familiar are you!?”

Roy had a tart smile on his face, as though amused at her expense. “You never asked,” he said merrily.

“I’m not supposed to _have_ to ask!” she barked. “You know what this means! You knew and you didn’t tell me anything, you let me blunder along in the dark!”

Roy folded his arms over his chest and stood straight. “I didn’t think it mattered. You were okay, therefore I was okay. If this backfired, that’d be on you, little miss trusting.” 

Tess raised her hands in a gesture of utter frustration and sounded a noise just as irritated. “You’re impossible!”

Dante grunted irritably. He felt awkward now. This was…not quite what he was used to, but it still made him angry to have such personal matters out in the open. He wasn’t used to people knowing. And yet still acting so…normal when they knew.

“Alright, stop!” he barked. “That’s enough. So we went looking for trouble and we found it. There’s one crazy demon-man running around. I know about you guys and you know about me. Whooptie-frickin’-doo. I see nothing wrong with this arrangement.”

He wanted to get out of this situation. He wanted to go to his room, see what the damage was like and decide if it was worth sticking around a little longer since he’d paid, or bailing from this entire situation for good. He was tired and getting hungry.

He was put on edge again by a light, mocking chuckle. “You don’t know everything, yet,” Magda said. “Son of Sparda or not, you’re still quite the unaware child.”

Dante whirled around and narrowed his eyes at the old woman, standing near the stairs like a wraith, a cigarette perched on her ivory cigarette holder and a black shawl tightly wrapped around her shoulders.

“I’ve got a name,” Dante growled at her.

“Oh yes, ‘Tony’,” she scoffed back at him.

Tess fairly flew at her. “You! You knew too!” she barked.

Magda simply smirked at her and Dante had the impression that she was smugly enjoying the whole thing. Tess stared back at her with an expression of mounting fury. Dante could guess the kind of pressures she was dealing with. She’d just found out she had been duped and played the fool by her familiar and even worse, her grandmother. Heck, even he’d been less than forthcoming with her. They’d all, intentionally or not, made her look like an idiot.

“You…you—“ Tess stuttered. Her face twisted into something small and ugly. “What the hell are you playing at?! Is this your idea of teaching me a lesson!?”

“One that I see you refuse to learn,” Magda said serenely.

Tess just glared daggers at the old woman and sounded a very angry snarl, then stomped past her as Magda smoothly stepped out of her way. Tess stormed upstairs with loud footsteps and a few moments later, a door slammed shut very loudly.

Roy cringed at the girl’s explosion and he gave Magda a look of mixed disappointment and irritation.

“That really wasn’t necessary,” he told her, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I believe it was,” the old woman countered. “She needs to learn her place.”

Dante glanced up the stairs after Tess without speaking. As pissed as he was about his own problems, he sort of felt sorry for the redhead now. He turned back and stared Magda in the eye, which she returned calmly. She seemed to be sizing him up and planning her next move. He was loath to admit that he had questions. Tess had said some things that puzzled him.

 _“Tess isn’t fully human?”_ he thought. _“She sure as shit isn’t part-demon. She smells human. I don’t sense anything from her. What the hell is going on in this house?”_

“So, what now?” he snapped at Magda. “You either kick me out or you don’t. I’d rather be clear about this bullshit.”

The old woman took a draw from her cigarette holder and blew the smoke away from them gently. “It’s true, your presence here has troubled me. I was against it. But if what you say about the demon you faced is true…I have an offer for you.”

Dante narrowed his eyes at her. “Oh yeah? Let me guess. You want some muscle.”

“Something of that persuasion,” she said coolly. “But before you decide… there are things you need to know. For fairness’ sake. Staying here makes you, for what it’s worth, a part of our little… coven,” she added, her sardonic smirk returning at the word.

She turned and started to retreat back towards her rooms. “Come along. I believe I can answer some of your questions. Trying to appeal to Tess is not advised right now.”

Roy sighed. “She’s right. Tess needs some time to cool down.”

Dante scowled at the old woman. “Yeah, well, I don’t blame her,” he muttered, not caring one bit if the old woman heard him.

He irritably followed Magda towards the door to her own rooms. He was in for a penny, in for a pound now, as the saying went and he might as well get some answers.


	5. Lessons Learned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where some old history is brought up.

Dante grappled with his frustration and an urge to just give the old bag a piece of his mind as he followed Magda through the door into her personal apartments. Roy lingered a little in the lobby, turning off the lights around the front desk and locking the front door, shuttering the building for the night.

Magda’s quarters were a simple attached house and the front room he stepped into was dark and a bit cramped, furnished more richly than such a small place had any right to be. The fireplace in the back gave more light than the old-fashioned light fixture, barely revealing antique wallpaper with patterns of fleur-de-lis. Dante wondered briefly if the old mirror in the attic had been made to match this room. Magda gracefully lowered herself into a bulky armchair covered in fine maple-colored tapestry, beside the fireplace. She wrapped her shawl around her tightly, looking every inch the grand lady. She gestured towards a similarly opulent sofa across her.

The whole room felt warm but also ensconcing, a somewhat suffocating feeling not helped by the windows covered in dark, heavy curtains. Neither did the clutter everywhere help; books, jars full of dry herbs of some kind, animal skulls and what Dante assumed to be other wiccan artifacts piled on a nearby table and several cabinets.

“Have a seat,” she said sternly. “I begin with the assumption that your presence in the city is not entirely by chance.”

Dante sat heavily in the couch, keeping the guitar case hiding his sword at his feet.

“That’d be about right,” he muttered. “I always need a place to stay but I heard some rumors. And when I was passing through, it seemed _interesting,_ if you know what I mean. But coming here, specifically, _was_ completely by chance.”

The more he thought about it, the more a pain in the ass it would be to find somewhere else to live.

Magda seemed satisfied by his answer, at least partially. She drew from her cigarette and breathed out slowly. “This city has always held an attraction for the unnatural,” she said irritably. “Even before there was a city, if you believe the tales. But it hasn’t been… active in many, many years. What you noticed began only recently. Quite gradually.”

Dante wrinkled his nose. “Tess mentioned something like that,” he said. “She also said you knew and you’ve done nothing.”

“There is very little I _can_ do,” she snapped back. “There are no other witches left in the city. We _are_ the only coven here, as it were. I am old and Tess is inexperienced and far too young to be involved. Protecting ourselves is all we can do.”

“Yeah, I noticed. You’ve got this place warded tighter than Fort Knox. Real subtle stuff too, I bet I’m not even aware of half of it,” Dante muttered. “Surprised my head didn’t pop like a grape when I walked through.”

She smiled tartly at him, but seemed pleased, tapping her cigarette holder near the fireplace to knock some ashes off. “My wards are discerning. But it troubles me that they left you entirely unharmed. You should have felt _something._ Nevertheless… I’ve already made adjustments. You are also protected, here.”

Dante pursed his lips. Part of him was offended. He didn’t _want_ her protection; he was too used to living with danger to change now. But on the other hand, it _was_ nice to be able to get some shut-eye without constantly expecting to get mugged or eaten by demons or both _._

“You can’t hide behind wards forever, though,” he said. “I just watched a loon go from crazed human to demon. Something’s bound to happen.”

She fixed him with her steely gaze. “Perhaps. But there is no way to tell if this is merely the foolishness of a half-baked warlock who brought it on himself, or something else. Which brings me to my offer…”

She took another draw from her smoke and exhaled it slowly, then leaned forward, through the smoke. “Let me make myself clear: I am not pleased that you are here. But since you are, you may as well aid me. In exchange for bed and board here, I would like you to be my eyes and ears. Do as you wish outside these walls, just keep me appraised.”

Dante narrowed his eyes. “That’s it?”

She smiled, like a cat. “Of course, if you encounter anything untoward, you are free to deal with it as you see fit. Simply keep me informed. I understand that the role of the hunter has a certain… appeal for you.”

“Yeah well, that’s personal,” he grunted. “What makes you think I’d agree?”

She brought her thin pipe to her lips, still smiling. “You’re interested.”

Well, she had him there. He could buck this whole thing, out of sheer spite, but the truth was that he _was_ interested now.

“Right,” he muttered. “I suppose it’s not a bad deal.”

She nodded and sat back in her chair. “I’m pleased. You needn’t deal with me too often – in fact, I would prefer it. You may speak with Tess or Roy and they will inform me.”

“What are you going to do with what you find out?” he ventured.

“Prepare,” she said grimly. “For war or for stealth, who knows? Tess has gotten it in her head to play the little heroine, but she forgets her age. We are witches, not warriors. The front lines are not where we belong.”

“Hey, at least she gives a toss,” he muttered. “What’s her problem, anyway? I get why she blew up but what the hell did she mean when she said ‘you know what this means’? It sounded like something is going on.”

Magda’s smirk shrank. “Did she, now?” she muttered.

“You may as well tell him. You know Tess won’t,” Roy’s voice came from the doorway.

Dante turned to see Roy come through and shut the door in his wake. Then he seemed to fall forward and the next moment, he had shrunk into a cat. Dante remembered the familiar gray fur, fluffier tail and luminous eyes. He padded forward and then hopped up on the couch near Dante, where he curled up. Dante stared, confused for a few minutes. Hearing a cat talk would take some getting used to.

Magda looked more irritated than ever. The subject clearly brought her no pleasure. “Tess, whether she likes it or not, owes a debt to your father. I assume that it makes her quite uncomfortable to be around you now that she knows.”

Dante tilted his head, frowning. “So what? Look, I don’t give a shit about my old man. What could she possibly owe him?”

The crone chuckled. “Her life,” she said sardonically. “Sparda has occasionally been a fair-weather friend to wiccans, and we to him,” she began. “But then he sought to meddle with our laws and justice and things changed.”

Dante was taken aback. He’d heard stories here and there, about his old man, which always left him with mixed feelings. Resent and pride were principally among them. Usually the stories had to do with demons and heroic deeds, with glorious battles and great labors. He always suspected that his father might’ve dealt with witches some way or another but this sounded different. Like he’d done something _bad._

“What exactly did he do?” Dante asked.

“Prevented a just execution,” she said flatly. “And then helped a murderer abscond with my daughter.”

Dante blinked in confusion. That… was not what he’d expected.

Magda’s gaze turned hard. “He made us all into fools and ensured that Tess’ father could not be persecuted by wiccans. Sparda exploited the respect and _fear_ we had for him. His word stoked an already tense situation and caused a rift among our circles. Not enough to tear us apart… but enough for us to _remember_.”

Dante sat back and tried to process what he’d heard. “So wait… he saved Tess’ father from death – but you’re saying he was a murderer?” he blurted. “Look, Sparda risked his neck for humans, you’re telling me now that he turned on his allies for one bad guy? I’m having some trouble believing this.”

Magda smiled tartly. “You wouldn’t understand. You don’t know her father’s _reputation_. You’re too young.”

Roy stared at him. “Tess’ father had a certain notoriety among demons and wiccans,” he said, flicking his tail. “If you believe the tales, Erik might as well have been _worse_ than some demons.”

Dante raised an eyebrow. “You know, I’d call bullshit on that, but I’ve seen people do some pretty nasty things,” he admitted. “So, what’d her dad do?”

He wondered. What had her father done? Was he one of those people who struck bargains with demons for power? Or was he the type who didn’t need to approach demons to be monsters in the first place? Why would Sparda take interest?

“He was unnatural,” Magda growled, staring at her fireplace. “Fire is such a fickle thing. It warms, burns, cleanses and destroys – and then it dies with what it has consumed. Demons claim power over it but they burn just as easily in a pure enough flame.”

She then glanced at him sideways. “Would you not call such power, in a human shell with human desires unnatural?”

Roy snorted quietly. “Hardly,” he said pointedly. “Erik was a _changeling_.”

Dante blinked. “Hang on – a what?”

Roy sighed. “Changelings are… fey. Creatures from another realm, beyond a very thin veil of reality. Humans have had countless names for them over the years. Fairies, goblins, elves, whatever have you. But make no mistake… they are _other._ ”

“Are you telling me the Twig’s part-fairy?” Dante started to chuckle.

His mirth died off under the very grim stares of Roy and Magda. Evidently, not as funny as he thought. “So… what _is_ a changeling?” he muttered.

“Erik was born to humans, somewhere in Norway, I think. But from infancy it was pretty obvious he wasn’t normal,” Roy said. “They didn’t know, but their child was a fey in a human shell. It’s unnatural, an immortal thing in a mortal body and dangerous. It’s… being trapped in a burning building, more or less.”

Magda scoffed at his comparison and took a long drag from her cigarette. Her gaze was hard, angry.

“I’ve known changelings before but none like Erik,” Roy sighed. “For all intents and purposes, he was fire. Just living, breathing fire in human shape, under a thin layer of skin. He never burned. Fire sprang to life out of nothing, at his mere thought. Be it charcoal or molten iron or naked flame – it obeyed. His very body, at times, flesh and blood and all, _became_ fire.”

“Even demons burned at his touch,” Magda muttered. “Wiccan wards did nothing. It ate through them and through us like we were nothing. You would think, you can snuff out fire and extinguish it… but give that same fire the will to resist and survive; it becomes unnatural.”

“I’ve seen pyromancers before, though,” Dante muttered. “They control fire—“

“And yet that’s _all_ they do,” she countered, shaking her head. “Weak and fickle humans who play games they don’t understand. They invoke spirits of fire to control it, or appeal to demons. Their power comes with a price and with laws they can’t bend. They burn up with their fire, in the end. He wasn’t like that. He _was_ fire. He was everything fire is; destruction and ruin and—“

“—and not as straightforward as that,” Roy interrupted her pointedly. “It was his undoing too, you know,” he added sadly. “It’s why demons became… interested.”

Dante scowled. “What’d they do?” he asked, even though he had a fairly good idea.

“They saw something to exploit, of course,” Roy said. “Snatched from his family as an infant, he was given to minions of demons to rear as a weapon against wiccans.”

Magda fairly spat. “Demons like nothing better than to use and abuse us,” she snarled. “By force or by trickery or honeyed words. They promise everything, sometimes, and then _take_ everything. They can’t stand that we know what they are and how to resist.”

“Tess said something like that,” Dante blurted. “So… demons… wanted to use her dad against witches?”

“They did, too,” Roy said sadly. “Your father’s rebellion wasn’t perfect. Sealing the Underworld away left some behind. Hiding in the cracks of reality and just waiting for their time. Some were called back by foolish humans. And some never left. Unable to act themselves, they always seek foot-soldiers for whatever schemes they concoct.”

“That changeling was a gift from the gods,” Magda said sardonically. “All they had to do was raise him right. They all but took him to the realm of demons to instill in him their mastery.”

“How the heck did he even survive that?” Dante muttered.

Roy narrowed his amber eyes. “Necessity is the mother of many things. The need to survive honed him into a fierce weapon with little prompting. As I understand, he grew up rubbing shoulders with both demons and their human minions and cut his teeth on unruly demon rabble. Whatever contact with humans he had was not normal.”

“They sent him after us,” Magda snapped. “They sent him to hunt us because he was human in blood and flesh and yet not and our wards and seals could do nothing.” She spoke with an agitated, nervous tone. “We feared demons and hid from them and warded them off, so they sent something _else_ to hunt us.”

Roy’s tone was sadder. “Changelings are so rare, most wiccans don’t know how to deal with them. And anyhow, they aren’t supposed to be that powerful. Fey born in human bodies grow up to be humans. Strange and a little unnatural, but _human._ That’s all they know how to be. They don’t have that much power, the body can’t cope. Erik wasn’t even allowed that small mercy.”

“So they… used him as a weapon,” Dante uttered. “He took advantage of what he was.”

“ _They_ took advantage of him,” Roy insisted. “He had no will of his own. He knew no other life. He was an attack dog, rather than a conscious hitman. His masters used him against their own kind, too.”

“He knew very well what he was doing,” Magda snarled. “He knew and so did his masters!”

The cat shook his head. “Frankly, it was a sad existence.”

Dante sat back, trying to take it all in. He never thought he’d give a shit about the whys and the how and the who of demons or their doings. This sounded like so much of the usual cruel demonic behavior he’d seen again and again in his short life already. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the ‘changeling’ bit but the rest was troublesome. Tess’ father was an underling of demons, like so many other humans who had given themselves over for power. And yet Roy was calling it sad. Why? He expected to hear a tragedy, one of many that followed in the wake of demons.

And how the heck was his old man involved? “What did Sparda do?” he asked quietly. “Stop him?”

Magda laughed sharply, bitterly. “If only! If only he had put an end to it. I do not think your father ever faced him or his like in battle.”

Roy flicked his ears. “This part… is actually a bit of speculation on my part,” he admitted. “You see, we don’t have _all_ the facts. Many of the witnesses are… dead, and neither of us was present for much of it. You’ll have to forgive me if I sound vague.”

“Just get on with it,” Dante said impatiently.

Roy might’ve shrugged, had he been in human shape. “As I understand, following your father’s rebellion, the Underworld was left in a state of… shall we say, civil war. Demons fighting for control and power and what have you. That’s the kind of thing Erik was caught up in, even in the human realm. And yet… he turned on his masters.”

“Are you saying my old man helped him?” Dante asked. “Why would that have to do with scaring witches and Tess?”

“Not at that point,” Roy sighed. “Erik was no noble rebel, like your father. He didn’t quite have the ideals instilled in him for that. To Erik, humanity was something he watched from afar. That’s just how he grew up. His rebellion was out of spite. Tired of serving. But maybe… there was a bit of jadedness there, too. What he did was a bid for his own freedom.”

“He didn’t _deserve_ freedom,” Magda mumbled.

Dante’s brows furrowed. “Hang on. So if Sparda had nothing to do with that part, then what—“

“Think about it,” Roy told him. “Your father spent a long time bringing some order to the mess that was the human world after his rebellion. Just when things have evened out and humans are moving on, he finds that one of the Underworld’s minions has broken away from his masters and starts wandering around the human world.”

Dante bit his lip. “Can’t have sat well with him,” he admitted grudgingly. “Why didn’t he just… slay him and be done with it?”

Magda scoffed. “I wish he had,” she growled. “But then… my daughter got in the way. Fool she was…”

Her voice fairly dripped bitterness. And pain. As did Roy’s, who quavered a little.

“Tess’ mother was… not as pleased with a role in the sidelines,” he said, looking pointedly at Magda. “After Erik fled his masters, he took to wandering the human world. Wiccans from all over were looking for him. He’d done a lot of harm, you see.”

“They wanted revenge,” Dante said flatly.

“Sophie joined the hunt out of a kind of righteous indignation,” the cat chuckled wryly. “She was ever the ambitious rebel and extremely talented for her age. When word spread that the assassin of fire had fled his masters’ protection and was just wandering the world… she determined to join the hunt.”

Dante fought a small smirk. Sounded entirely familiar.

“Things didn’t quite go to plan?” he quipped.

He swore that Roy smiled tartly, even as a cat. “More or less. Erik had experience fighting and hiding from wiccans. I don’t know whether her actually _finding_ him was luck or not… but she was extremely angry when she did.”

“Little fool,” Magda mumbled.

Dante cocked his head. “Why angry? You’d think she’d be satisfied.”

Roy might’ve smiled tartly. “From what I understand, Erik had the temerity to be far from the monstrous murderer she had envisioned. He had the gall to be rather sad. Maybe even pathetic.”

Magda snorted with enough derision to halt a battalion.

“He… wasn’t what she expected, huh?” Dante offered, avoiding Magda’s glare.

“No. Now, I’m not entirely sure what transpired between them that halted Sophie in her tracks so abruptly. I’m told they had words. That he was… rather resigned to his fate. And then his former masters came upon them and he made it quite clear he was not willing to be leashed again,” Roy said matter-of-factly. “All I know is that when she came back, Sophie was brimming with anger at everyone else and dragged him with her, just long enough to deliver an ultimatum to Magda and then leave with him.”

“I should have stopped them when I had the opportunity,” Magda snarled. “Sophie blindsided me and tricked me – her own mother!”

Dante couldn’t help a small smirk. “Sounds like quite the love story,” he muttered, to which Roy cast a cheeky look at him, while Magda might’ve stood up and put her cigarette out in his eye.

“The little fool was taken in by whatever he said to her,” she growled. “She put that… that _freak_ , above her family, above her duty, her heritage—her very kind,” she muttered, shaking with quiet outrage.

Dante shrugged. “Hey, she made a decision and ran with it. I’m still waiting to hear how my old man fits into all this but as far as I’m seeing, you got yourself a grandkid.”

He regretted that the moment it came out of his mouth because Magda glared at him with a near murderous gaze and a vein along her temple pulsed in anger. “You would do better to keep your opinions on my family to yourself,” she snarled. “My daughter ran headlong into her death by associating with that – that _creature_ and left me with nothing but infamy and a child tainted in both blood and legacy by that lapdog of Hell.”

Roy sprang up and hissed, his ears flat against his head. “Magda!” he snarled back.

Dante bit back a mild cuss, staring Magda down. The old woman was bitter as all hell. And if she was so open about it to him, a damn stranger, who knew how often she directed such words to Tess? No wonder the girl was an angry mess, stuck with her.

Magda glared at them both and then looked at her fireplace, angrily lighting another cigarette at the end of her long holder. Roy glared at her with his tail swishing angrily before he sat back down, leaving it twitching irritably.

“Magda echoes the general sentiment of wiccans at the time,” Roy said bitterly. “Erik was responsible for the death of many people. They wanted justice, they didn’t care about the why and the how,” he growled. “I think Erik was far more keenly aware of his crimes than everyone thinks. He was somewhat… fatalistic even later in life but he never talked about it. If you ask me, they _both_ wanted freedom when they fled,” he added, glaring quite intently at Magda.

“Foolish child,” Magda muttered.

Dante looked to Roy. “So… that why my old man get involved?”

Honestly, it was quite fortunate that Roy kept his composure better, though his tail still flicked with concealed irritation.

“Yes,” he admitted. “The two of them tried to escape detection but wiccans have an easier time tracking their own. There was little Erik could do or say in his defense when they were found. To his credit, he _did_ try to shield Sophie from it and take all the blame but by then she was branded. They were going to be judged and most likely, executed. Too many called for blood.” 

“Damn,” Dante muttered. “Pretty ruthless.”

He wondered. Why would his father choose to get involved in such a mess, over a criminal who caused so much evil and grief? It didn’t matter if Erik had repented or whatnot. It would’ve been so much simpler to just let it all take its course. Had Sparda taken on such human traits that mercy had grown in his soul so deeply? Dante sometimes regretted how little he knew about his father. This sort of tale made him feel like he _might_ have wanted to know him. And then it occurred to him: Tess was no older than him. This event… had been recent. It might as well have been one of the last things his father had done before…

He tightened his jaw suddenly. An irrational sense of unfairness burned in his chest. Why did he have to go and stick his nose into witch affairs, anyway? Is that what he did when he left? Why couldn’t he have stayed with—

 _“Stop it,”_ he told himself. _“Shut up. Whatever you do, you can’t go blaming Tess. It’s not her fucking fault; it’s not even her dad’s fault. If anyone is to blame, it’s_ him _. Goddammit.”_

Roy stared up at him and Dante finally caught his concerned look, and tried to smooth out his scowl. “So… what happened then?”

Roy flicked an ear, still staring at him, then continued. “Sparda interceded. He showed up at the council held to decide their fate and… well. I suppose you could say he threw his weight around. He persuaded the wiccans to let Erik live.”

“He implicitly threatened the council,” Magda snarled. “Made promises he would never keep and twisted them around with words.”

“He wasn’t alone,” Roy countered. “There were others who understood, perhaps a little more far-sighted than you, Magda. And less biased. Sophie, for one. She defended him quite fiercely, physically and otherwise. At any rate… your father’s word kept Erik alive but it didn’t guarantee acceptance or forgiveness. They became exiles, essentially. I don’t know exactly what passed between your father and Erik and Sophie after that. Those who know are… dead, I’m afraid,” he said and his voice quieted.

“Did you… meet him?” he ventured.

“Sparda? Just once, in passing. I can tell you nothing of him I’m afraid, save that you rather look like him.” Then Roy sighed. “Poor Sophie and Erik. They started out wrong but they worked it out. Sophie felt so strongly about the whole matter that she… never came back.”

“So if you’re so pissed about this whole thing, why the heck are you even letting me stay?” Dante asked Magda.

“I believe in keeping my friends close and my enemies closer,” she said, staring at him coldly. “And as I’ve stated, now is not the time for my quibbles with you or your father. There are other matters at hand and I cannot afford to be squeamish.”

Then she smirked wryly at him. “You may even consider it a little bit of penance for your father’s actions.”

“I’m _not_ cleaning up my father’s messes,” Dante snapped.

So he said, but he’d already agreed to this. He told himself that he was absolutely _not_ doing it because of his father’s bullshit. He was doing it because he was living there now and didn’t feel like packing up and hauling off. Because he… was interested. Yes, that’s what it was. He had quarry to hunt and he liked that. It was just what he wanted. And maybe because…he felt sorry for Tess? No, he couldn’t ever say that.

Magda studied his face and quirked an eyebrow at the gamut of emotions that she may or may not have seen cross it.

“One last thing,” she said. “Take some care with whatever Tess tells you. The girl is… unstable. Even for a witch.”

Dante stayed very still and stared. “You’re calling her… crazy?” he asked carefully.

Magda’s lips drew very thin. “Perhaps,” she said darkly. “Do not mistake her eagerness to fight with an ability to do so. She’s foolish. I’ve lived this long by keeping away from the affairs of demons. Her mother perished because she did not and I do not wish to see her mother’s folly repeated.”

Dante scowled at her. What did she expect him to do, babysit the Twig? At the same time though, he was kind of amused because Tess already had proven to him that she was bucking at Magda’s expectations big time.

“You can’t blame me if she _likes_ getting in trouble,” he chuckled.

Her cold stare did not change at all. “Regardless. I may loathe her father, but I do not wish to see her dead. She isn’t like you.”

Then she suddenly sat back in her chair, discarded her cigarette into the fireplace and ran her hand over her face, massaging her temples. She seemed smaller suddenly, older and not quite the indomitable iron lady.

“Please go now. I must rest. My health isn’t what it used to be,” she said tiredly. “Roy will see to it if you need anything.”

Dante stood up slowly and picked up the guitar case, staring at her, troubled. He made for the door but as he did, without knowing for certain why, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

“You know… maybe if you gave her a chance, you might be surprised,” he said. “She’s got the right attitude. And she’s got fight—“

“No,” the old woman croaked. “Too much of her father. But not enough to be safe. Not enough… of her mother.”

Dante saw the crack in the old woman’s façade. Anger and grief and resent and love all mixed together. He looked down and then hurried out of the room, wondering why he cared enough to stand up for the Twig, he barely knew her. As he left the room, Roy slunk out after him, just as the door swung shut heavily behind him. The cat lunged forward to save his tail from getting caught with an irritated hiss.

“Goodness, now you’ve done it,” the cat said, shaking his fur down. “She doesn’t like being contradicted. But good job on standing up to her.”

Dante said nothing, just shuffled towards the stairs, trying to organize his thoughts. Roy seemed to have let go of his earlier anger. Dante still had questions, as loath as he was to admit it. Roy slunk behind his desk and suddenly his human shape rose up from behind it, as if he had bent over to pick up something from the floor.

“To be honest, I didn’t think you’d be that interested in our little vixen,” he added with a chuckle, plucking a key from one of the drawers. “I thought you two didn’t get along. Come on, let’s go have a look at the disaster in your room. I need to know what I have to fix.”

Dante hesitated but eventually sighed and followed him up the stairs slowly. “Hey Roy…”

“Mmm?”

“Does she… talk to Tess like that to her face?” he asked, staring at Tess’ closed door. It sounded very quiet from inside.

Roy smiled wanly. “I’m afraid she does. I’ve lived long with this family, and they’ve never been easy to live with, even at the best of times. But Magda can’t let go of her grudge. There’s only so much I can do about it.”

“She’s got more guts than the old lady thinks,” Dante mumbled. “Getting in my face even though she knew what I was from day one? That’s ballsy.”

Roy chuckled quietly. “Honesty’s a refreshing feeling, eh?”

Dante grimaced but smiled. “I guess.”

Roy let Dante unlock his room’s door and they both peered in. The room was a mess; the window nearest to his bed was broken, the glass seemingly blown outwards and from the bed-side table a small maelstrom seemed to have churned everything around, clothes, bedsheets, loose magazines and litter.

Roy whistled. “Quite the storm in a teacup, as you see.”

“Damn,” Dante muttered. “What the heck did this?”

“I’d wager it’s that,” Roy said and pointed his chin towards the night-table.

Dante winced. He went over to it, stepping over the bedsheets swept right off the bed and picked up the silver amulet with a large red stone set in the middle. In the crimson depths a very faint light seemed to pulse and when Dante picked it up, it felt a bit… warm to the touch.

“Hmm… seems to respond to you,” Roy said vaguely, even though Dante could tell he was dying to say more. “Likely was unhappy when you got that,” he added, tapping the torn piece of the boy’s coat shoulder. “May I offer a piece of advice?”

Dante scowled. “Sure.”

Roy studied him for a moment. “Keep it close to you. I don’t know what it is and I won’t pry. But it feels as though it should be near you and I find that these little feelings are worth paying attention to,” he said gently. “Keep it close, even if it hurts. Important things… usually do.”

Dante blinked at him, hand tightening around the amulet without him realizing. He cast about for something funny, something clever to say, to break this awkward deadlock, but before he could, Roy looked away and surveyed the window again.

“Well now. That’s going to take some work. But I think I can install a new one tomorrow. I have a couple of spares in the basement,” he said serenely. “You ought to be alright, for a night. Just close the shutters and bundle up.”

“Sure,” Dante mumbled and without thinking about it, put the amulet on. He hadn’t in a long time – too many memories, too fresh, too raw. He needed a diversion right now, to not let his mind go there again. “Say uh…”

“Yes?”

“Tess is… okay, right? She’s not gonna start giving me shit all of a sudden, right? I know I bothered her a lot and she was really pissed earlier—“

Roy smiled curiously. “She’ll calm down,” he assured him. “She’s not angry at you as much as she is with me and Magda. But don’t push it.”

Dante held up his hands. “I won’t. She’s not so bad when she’s not pissed at everyone.”

He watched as Roy’s eyebrow quirked upwards slowly. His smile turned a bit… ironic?

Dante refused to believe that his cheekbones felt warm. “Don’t give me that look, I don’t _like_ her! She’s okay, that’s all I’m saying,” he said quickly. “As in, it’s cool that she’s okay with me. Honesty! Like you said.”

It was no good. One instance of distracted rambling and Roy’s quiet watching turned into a fit of chuckles that the old man failed to suppress, and then into laughing.

"HA! Ahaha…hahahaha! _Hmmphh_ …excuse me, I—hahaha! Ahem, I mean— _heeheehee_ …I’m sorry," he chuckled, turning to the side and covering his mouth, chuckling and snorting.

Dante stared, almost wanting to shove the old man out of his room. “Oh my shit—okay, forget it! We’ve done enough bonding today! Kindly get the fuck out, jeez!”

He walked over and herded Roy out of the room, even as the old man cackled quietly and obediently headed out to the hallway.

“Let me know if you’d like me to mend your coat. _After_ you wash it,” he chortled, leaving Dante to grunt vaguely and shut the door.

He set about tidying his room somewhat – at least, he made his bed again and picked his clothes off the floor. He closed the shutters and stuffed an extra sheet in any cracks to keep out most of the cold. With that done, he got changed, bundling up his bloody and dirty clothes for the laundry later. He emerged from his room an hour or so later, holding a microwave pizza. With all the excitement and the mess, he hadn’t eaten since lunch and his stomach was complaining.

He hesitated, passing outside Tess’ door. It was still tightly shut and he could hear very faint music coming from within. He thought of knocking, to talk to her, get her side of the story and maybe see how she felt. He raised his fist to do so…and hesitated. What could he say to her right now, anyway? He raked his brain and for one of those rare times in his life, came up empty, to his amazement. His fist hovered over the wood for a few seconds while he tried to come up with a reason, something that wasn’t going to make her just slam her door in his face.

Nothing.

With an irritated huff, he let his fist drop by his side and then rubbed the back of his neck, heading for the stairs. He clambered down them ponderously, relieved to find that Roy wasn’t around. The last thing he needed was to see the old man giving him weird looks.

To his irritation, he couldn’t stop thinking over the matter. It bothered him, that of all the houses, in all the cities, he walked into one owned by witches… and with whom he had a kind of second-hand connection, thanks to his goddamn old man. He had a feeling Tess might share his frustration, just for different reasons. He walked into the kitchen and popped his pizza into the microwave. As he jabbed the buttons irritably, he wondered whether her attitude towards him would change now. Probably would.

Then he sulked as he caught his thoughts turning to Roy’s reaction. The cheek of the old man, assuming he liked the Twig.

Dante scowled and shook his head while blankly staring at the microwave. _“I_ don’t _like her. She’s a witch! Stubborn and a temper like a rocket engine – her jokes are stale and she’s snappy. She’s just irritating. What’s to like?”_

Unexpectedly, some bit of him replied frighteningly promptly.

_“What’s not to like? Didn’t give her many excuses to be nice, did you? And she didn’t lie to you. She didn’t run away in terror, knowing what you are. Knocks your ego down a bit.”_

He rolled his eyes and shook his head again at himself, as the microwave surrendered his pizza, warmed and ready. He grabbed the food and some napkins and headed for his room. He resisted the urge to knock on Tess’ door just to intrude in her personal space and get _some_ kind of reaction.

An awkward little surprise awaited him when he reached his door. He turned the knob but it jammed halfway. He reached into his pocket for his keys, realizing he’d locked himself out of his room.

They were not in any of his pockets.

With a small amount of mounting panic and having nowhere to put his pizza down on to check, he went through all of his pockets, _again,_ and even investigated _in_ his pants just in case they’d fallen through his pocket.

Nothing.

Dante grunted a supremely irritated noise and stood there, fuming and staring at his door. Locked out like a freakin’ idiot. Roy wasn’t around and he didn’t dare go through the front desk on his own or kick the door down – he’d angered Roy enough today. He’d have to wait for the old man. Then he hesitated and glanced at Tess’ door.

 _“She’s gotta come out sometime. Angry at me or not, I’ll get her to help,”_ he thought and sighed.

The boy moseyed over by her door and then sat down against the wall next to her door to eat his pizza. He determined that if she didn’t come out by the next hour, he’d knock and consequences be damned. He started to eat thoughtfully and wondered what she might have to say about the things Magda and Roy said. He had a feeling that she might have a very different story to tell.

 _“At least she wasn’t lying to me. She had no idea and she didn’t seem bothered until she found out,”_ he thought.

He was a little mad at Roy and Magda too; hiding the truth from her and pretending around him had been pretty damn hypocritical.

He had severely underestimated how much the entire day had exhausted him, between the fight and the stupid talk he’d sat through, he was knackered. After he finished his pizza and set the plastic platter aside, he leaned back against the wall and before he knew it, he’d dozed off where he was sitting.


	6. Little Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a devil hunter does some chores and has some heart-to-heart talk with his landlord.

Dante slept deeper than usual. He was used to sleeping in odd places; he’d spent many a night huddled under bridges, curled in train seats, even crammed in drain pipes once in a while. The carpeted floor of a well-maintained boarding house was comparatively heaven. Add to it the comforting feeling of wards watching over him, and his usual vigilance seemed to have abandoned him. He didn’t even react to someone standing over him and trying to prompt him awake.

“Hey, kid. Hey!!” someone called and Dante suddenly felt the sharp jab of a foot in his side.

Dante mumbled something vague as he was gradually roused from his sleep, just for another jab in his sides, a little rougher.

“Come on, wake up you little bum!”

Finally something hard tapped him on the head.

“For the love of—I said, _wake up_!!”

Before the hard item could tap him again, Dante jerked awake and one hand grabbed at the offending object hard while the other flailed out, automatically seeking one of his guns… which were nowhere to be found.

Dante breathed hard and stared up blearily, trying to blink away the sleep from his eyes, looking up at his attacker—

“…The heck?” he blurted, staring up at Roy and the broomstick he was holding.

Roy was smirking down at him with a half-puzzled, half-amused look on his face. Dante shoved the tip of the broomstick away and looked around. He was still sitting beside Tess’ door, for pity’s sake and his cheeks suddenly felt warm.

“What the dickens are you doing here?” Roy chuckled.

Dante rubbed the back of his neck, nervously smiling and having nothing much to say. What _could_ he say, anyway?

“I was… uh…”

His face felt hot and Dante wanted the ground to open up under him and just claim him. How did he manage to get caught snoozing in such an awkward place in what felt like early in the morning? His usual wit had entirely abandoned him. He cast a sidelong look at his door and Roy followed his gaze to it and then back at him. He looked highly amused. Dante picked up the plastic tray he’d eaten his pizza from and stood up slowly. He tried to casually wander towards his door but Roy stood there, serenely staring at him with a smile that was just a moment away from a full-blown laugh.

Dante hesitated. “Um…”

 “Got locked out, did you?” Roy offered helpfully.

Dante shut his eyes, grumbled and nodded in complete humiliation. Roy chuckled quietly and shook his head as he stepped up to Dante’s door while fishing a master key from his pocket. He casually unlocked the door and then stepped aside to let him through.

“I think I _did_ warn you at some point about the self-locking doors,” he said kindly. “I went to handle some errands last night; I suppose you couldn’t find me. But I do have to wonder,” he added innocently, “why one earth were you sleeping outsize _her_ room?”

Dante, feeling his face very hot by now, just replied with an awkward grunt and ducked into his room, shut his door and locked behind him with a bitten-off curse. He crumpled the plastic tray and angrily threw it into his wastebasket. He heard Roy’s laugh from outside and growled quietly.

“Well! I wonder what Tess thought when she found you! She snuck out this morning,” he chuckled. “Anyway, your work for the window starts today. Get yourself sorted out and come to the back yard, from the lobby. I’ll be expecting you.”

Dante bellowed something affirmative then listened to the old man walk away down the hallway. He almost kicked something in frustration, feeling quite humiliated. How could he let himself get caught in this kind of situation by Roy of all people? The old man had made fun of him and now expected him to work for one stupid window. And to make it worse, Tess had found him there too and apparently didn’t do shit about it. No doubt that just made her angrier at him.

Dante glared at the broken window. _“This is the Twig’s fault,”_ he thought, as absurd as it was.

But he considered his meager savings and cringed. It was better than paying. He rummaged around and got changed into something he didn’t mind getting dirty. He wasn’t sure what Roy might’ve had planned for him and frankly, he expected the worst. He scowled at the torn shoulder of his coat. He might have to ask Roy if he could mend it for him – Dante didn’t trust himself to mend it. He washed his face, shaved and then finally clambered down the stairs, grumbling.

The weather was better than yesterday but still cold and damp. He’d thrown on a bomber jacket he owned and stepped out of the very same back door he and Tess had walked through the night previously. Finally in the light of day, as weak as it was through the clouds, he could get a good look at the back yard.

It was a fairly small garden, flanked on two sides by the walls of the building and closed off with chain-link fence backed with wooden planks for privacy. Dante’s own room faced the street, so he’d never seen this yard properly. A small patio of cobblestone stretched into a path towards the chain-link door in the fence surrounding it. The rest of it was a fairly unkempt lawn with empty flowerbeds, a currently bare tree and some shrub beds, with an antique sundial standing in one far side. The cold season had beaten most of the plants into a sort of shriveled, dormant state.  

A pile of mismatched junk was bunched in one side. Roy was opening the door in the chain-link fence and behind him, on a stone table near the junk, a toolbox lay open.

“Ah, good, you’re here. I was afraid I might need to be firmer,” the man chuckled. “Put on a pair of gloves and roll up your sleeves. This junk needs moving. I’ve brought a special dumpster out in the alley here.”

Dante quirked an eyebrow at the job at hand; he’d expected hard labor but something a little grimier and demeaning. Just carrying things seemed fairly harmless. He snatched a pair of heavy work gloves from the toolbox and pulled them on. He carefully picked up a mass of coiled, rusty wire that was so degraded it was almost falling apart.

“What _is_ all this junk?”

Roy heaved a large, heavy table with a missing leg. “Trash from the basement, I’m afraid. Stuff that came with the building, stuff tenants have left and stuff we stored thinking we’d use again – the usual nonsense,” he grunted. “Been down there for years. But I’ve had enough of it and it’s becoming a hazard, not to mention being in the way, so out it’s goes. I spent a couple of days getting it out here. Now it’s time to get rid of it for good.”

Dante grabbed the other end of the table, tossed the disintegrating wire pile on the surface and they both maneuvered it out through the fence door.

“Hey, if Magda’s a witch and all, can’t she just… I dunno, _zap_ it out here?” he asked. “Or you?”

Roy cackled. “Oh dear, I forget you’re not quite familiar with witches. Witches don’t just… ‘zap’ things around – and I can’t either, for that matter, not part of my skill-set,” he said. “Magda’s too proud to use her powers for trifles like this. Tess would, because she’s lazy, but she can’t. Hasn’t got the experience.”

They tossed the table in the trash container outside.

“And since you brought it up… take my advice and never ask a wiccan to use their powers for something they can do without ‘em,” Roy told him. “Most get offended. It’s like calling them soft.”

Dante nodded, chuckling. “Maybe I should do that to Tess,” he smirked, getting an eyeroll from Roy.

Still, perhaps he could learn a few things about dealing with witches from Roy. “So, they all as touchy as Tess?” he scoffed.

Roy picked up a rusted old bicycle and chuckled. “Yeah, they’re fickle. I suppose that’s just their nature. Before Sparda, they were more or less the only kind of human who could stand against a demon effectively… I guess it offends demons to find humans with power. Or maybe they envy it. Anyway, it’s why witches are so secretive.”

Dante frowned. It made sense, in a twisted sort of way. “Demons are proud things,” he said thoughtfully. “They like to think they’re the strongest things around. Of course it’d irk them to know some measly humans can give them a hard time. Even if that takes guts. It’s crazy to even challenge them.”

Roy tilted his head at him, watching Dante yank some junk free from the pile. “You don’t think too highly of human tenacity?”

Dante looked up and blinked. “No. I do. I think. I just… sometimes it seems so pointless. They don’t… have anything to back it up with. Most humans either die or just give in, if they didn’t start it in the first place.”

He caught the look in Roy’s eyes; age, fathomless age and vast experience. He blinked and the impression was gone, Roy schooling his features to a more benign familiarity. Still, Dante was pretty sure that the old man was reading him like a freaking book and that annoyed him.

“Pointless?” he echoed. “No, I don’t think so. Even when they can’t fight them, even simply denying a demon the pleasure of surrender takes away some of their power over humans. Gives the rest a reason to keep fighting.”

Dante grunted a vague reply. He was a bit embarrassed to admit that his own thoughts often ran along the same lines, even when he found it hard to hold on to that feeling.

“What about you?” Roy asked suddenly. “Why do _you_ do it?”

Dante paused, holding a couple of rotting old car tires. He shrugged. “I guess I like trouble. Or it likes me.”

Roy threw the bike he was carrying into the container and cringed at the sharp scrape of metal as it landed on other junk. “Well, I suppose that’s expected. Still… someone being chased down by demons doesn’t _normally_ go seeking it…”

“Hey, it’s _fun_ , old man,” he snapped, shrugging. “’Sides, I got some scores to settle.”

Dante had the sneaky suspicion that Roy was doing a little more than being a fickle old man who needed small-talk to pass the time. In light of what had happened last night, he was most probably fishing.

“Your mother, I presume?” he asked, hauling a large coil of old, rusted telephone wire.

Dante froze for a second, staring at the bundle of rotting books tied together that he was handling. As quickly as that ‘glitch’ occurred, he resumed working normally, hauling the pile of books out to the bin without saying anything. He was struggling to push away the feelings bubbling up in him and the urge to drop everything and run away. He fought down an irrational hate for the old man.

Roy seemed to notice because he dropped some rusty and broken window shutters he was holding. He stopped and wiped his forehead on his arm. When he spoke, he sounded sad.

“I’m sorry, Dante. That was tactless of me. You’re right to be angry,” he sighed.

He cast around for something to do and picked up a broken armchair, lacking a back, and carried it to the bin. “It… it’s rather personal for me too, you see. I’ve lost many of this family over the years to demons.”

He threw the chair into the large bin. “Tess’ parents, among them.”

Dante grunted quietly. He’d been right. Roy _was_ worried. It occurred to him that Roy’s affection for the Templar family might run deeper than he’d thought. They were more than masters to him. He wondered whether Roy felt Dante might endanger Tess and Magda. He pulled loose a piece of a car frame, of all things, and carried it to the bin.

“So why’re you so chill with me hanging around the Twig?” he snapped, unsure why he was even starting this confrontation.

Roy grunted. “I’m… _not_ entirely confident, it’s true. I’ve seen too much. But Tess makes her own decisions. Magda wanted to kick you out when she found out you were here but Tess gave her hell about it. _She_ decided to tell you the truth. _She_ decided jump into a risky situation with you,” he grumbled, tossing a couple more old tires over the fence. “It’s her choices and… and I suppose I can live with them.”

He stopped suddenly and stared at the pile blankly, hands on his waist. “Even if she ends up like Sophie and Erik. I trust the girl.”

He glowered angrily at seemingly nothing and when he resumed picking through the pile of junk, it was with more vigor and determination, like he was taking his feelings out on it. He tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his bitterness. “She’s fickle and angry but she’s… she’s smart. And sensible. She knows what she’s doing.”

Dante frowned, watching Roy work. He was irritated too. He picked up a pair of broken, old lawn-chairs and carried them out.

“Whatever, old man,” he muttered. “I’m no lunatic and like you said, I don’t know a lot about witches.”

Roy threw another piece of junk over the fence, right into the bin and glowered. “That’s part of the problem. You _don’t_ know. About witches and I suspect, even your own power. I don’t trust creatures with too much power in their hands and you’ve got more than you think you do. Tess might argue all she likes that it doesn’t matter, but she doesn’t understand how potent demonic blood can be.”

He stopped and stared at Dante grimly. “I’m concerned you don’t understand your own limits. We might not know until it’s too late, you pup. I’d love to put you on the spot and see what you do to keep from turning into a _real_ devil.”

Dante felt his eyebrow twitch and something in him really started to snarl. “Don’t call me a _pup!”_ he bellowed.

He dropped some junk he was carrying and glared at Roy. “You want to try me, then come on! I’m not scared of beating the shit out of you, old man! I’ve always had demonic blood. I’m better than any human in a fight and I’ve _never_ lost it.”

Roy scoffed darkly and glared back. “Is that so? Keep losing you temper like that, and you’ll _lose your head_ eventually,” he snapped, tapping his own head with his finger emphatically. “You think you’re safe just because you can run fast or swing a sword about. You think that’s all power does. You don’t know half of it. Power gets you that far – and then it gets you in trouble.”

He threw his arm up in disdain. “I’ve lived long enough to see it happen over and over and over. Why should you be different?”

Dante narrowed his eyes and got in Roy’s face, looking right up at him and his voice dropped to a quiet, lethal sotto: “Because I’m not whoever you’ve seen. I’m _better_. Keeping my cool is a piece of cake.”

Whether he said that to reassure Roy or himself, though, Dante refused to ponder upon. It was a thought he often had and yet always wanted to avoid at all costs.

Roy stared him down with a much calmer demeanor. “You’re doing a very poor job to start with,” he observed, turning around to pick up one of the waterlogged cardboard boxes, wrapped in twine. “When you get even a little irritated, like this, you light up like a bloody beacon, you know.”

Dante’s irritation took a blow to the stomach and he took a step backwards, blinking. The memory of seeing his aura in the mirror and Tess saying how they changed struck him.

“You… can see auras too,” he blurted.

Roy graced him with a wan smile. “Not ‘see’ per se. Not quite like Tess. But I can sense them.”

Dante muttered a curse under his breath. He took a deep breath and let his shoulders sag. “I’m not a maniac, though. I _know_ I’m not.”

He couldn’t help the ever so slight quaver of his voice there at the end. This was something he grappled with often; it preyed on his mind like a cat preys on unsuspecting mice, creeping at the edges and constantly reminding him of its presence.

“No one is calling you a maniac,” Roy said, his tone growing gradually kinder. “I’m trying to put you on your guard, Dante. You’re unpredictable but you’re used to hiding what you are and avoiding people. If you’re going to stay here, under our roof, I need you to come to terms with that.”

Dante irritably yanked a glove off and ran his fingers through his hair. “So what the hell am I supposed to do?”

Roy sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Take things one step at a time,” he said.

He bent down and snatched a long metal pipe from the junk pile. “How about we both blow off a little steam, for now? I did say I wanted to see what you can do, on my terms.”

Dante whipped around just as Roy slipped his foot under a second pipe and flicked it over at Dante, who snatched it out of the air as it flew towards him. He twirled the pipe and dropped into a ready stance, watching Roy do the same, holding his longer pipe like a staff – and didn’t he look mighty fierce all of a sudden! Dante narrowed his eyes. Sure, this might just be a stupid spar but he wasn’t afraid to beat some sense into the old man to prove a point.

“Fine, you crazy old goat, let’s see what you got,” he snapped.

Roy smiled, somewhat sardonically. Dante irritatingly felt like a pupil whose teacher is about to school them. Roy charged suddenly, between blinks he was right up in Dante’s face, spinning and flicking the metal rod with an adeptness that betrayed years of well-practiced precision.

Dante was taken aback, not expecting such a fierce attack or expertise, not to mention _speed_ , from someone he viewed as little better than an old man. He chided himself in the split-second he had before Roy was onto him; Tess _had_ said that Roy was old. He’d had ample time to get good. Dante found himself actually struggling a little, though he blocked almost every one of Roy’s blows – save the last one.

It hit him square on the ribs, knocking the wind right out of him – but he had a feeling it might’ve been way worse. Dante backed away, glaring at Roy and then attacked with his own series of swings, trying to catch Roy’s knees or chest. He wasn’t planning on holding back as much and he found himself enjoying the challenge of trying to work out Roy’s limits. He really couldn’t read this guy at all, even now. Roy parried every single hit with his rod but he still had to take several steps backwards as Dante herded him back with the force of each strike.

Roy was grinning and actually took the time to comment on his performance! “Good… very good… _yes!_ ” he barked with satisfaction for a particularly pleasing swing. “No, don’t slow down—stop trying to just make _me_ back off and _mind your center of weight_ , you’re fighting your own momentum, damn it!” he cackled.

Was Roy… having fun? He seemed to be getting involved more than Dante expected him to be. He must have taught combat at some point, judging by the way he was going about this.

“Quit tellin’ me how to fight, old man!” Dante growled, even as he adjusted his stance and made a tactical sweet for Roy’s legs.

“Not until you stop being sloppy!” Roy scolded, easily dodging by casually stepping out of the way of the attack. In the same fluid motion, he planted his rod on the ground and used it as a support to bounce back, landing both feet onto Dante’s chest and shoving him backwards.

“You’re fighting me like you’d fight an old wreck! You can’t depend on just demon perks when you have no clue what your opponent is up to – or even what they are!” he said, half-smiling. “Use your head more! I’m old enough to know tricks you haven’t even thought of, take that into account! Pay more attention!”

Dante found himself sprawled on his ass by that little kick. But he bellowed and jumped back to his feet in a flash. He charged again, irritated at the sight of Roy standing there and grinning cheekily, leaning on his pole. Dante feigned a high swing but in reality he went for Roy’s knee. Roy was actually fooled and swung his pole to parry the blow but then his arm shot out and he grabbed the end of Dante’s pole barehanded, a moment before it could hit his knee. Dante blinked at the speed of Roy’s reflexes and the spar became suspended.

Roy chuckled indulgently. “Easy on the knees, son,” he said, pleased. “I’m not _quite_ as young as I was and this weather is quirky—“

A loud crash from inside the building made both of them freeze and then stare intently at the back door, which Dante had left open.

“We… don’t have any critters in the area, do we? Like raccoons?” Dante asked hesitantly. He did not like to contemplate an alternate option.

Roy let go of Dante’s rod and dropped his own. “No. And I didn’t feel our wards react,” he said and bolted for the door.

His pace turned into a quick and anxious trot when someone screamed from inside and a loud thud sounded, like banging furniture. The scream had been male, though, which made Dante hurry after Roy. He nearly stumbled into Roy’s back as the old man stopped abruptly just into the lobby.

A young man, dirty and in weathered and tattered clothes was trying to crawl towards the front door on his elbows. He looked over his shoulder and his face was bloodied – his cheek had a deep gash and he’d clearly taken a beating, not to mention that his nose was burst, blood was dribbling from it along the floor. His eyes darted frightfully to the lounge doorway and he shuffled again towards the door, whimpering.

Tess stood at the doorway, trying hard to control her breathing as her shoulders rose and fell with each breath. She held a bloodied kitchen knife and her eyes were hard as steel. She stared the man down and glanced at Dante and Roy when they came in. Behind her, one of the chairs in the lounge had been upturned and the table seemed to have been pushed backwards violently.

Dante read the situation and blinked. Tess did all that to the guy? He sidled up to her carefully, keeping his eye on that knife. He got between her and the tramp, partly to shield her in case he pulled a gun and partly to shield _him_ because she looked quite ready to have another go at him. She looked right at him and her lips drew thin.

“What the hell happened?” he asked her quietly.

“Good heavens,” Roy muttered.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he bent over the whimpering would-be-burglar.

Tess shrugged. “I think he followed me when I got back,” she said dryly. “He broke in through the kitchen window – you know the one, Roy, the one I keep telling you won’t close right. I was just getting some damn juice and he tried to grab me. I grabbed the knife faster.”

Dante’s eyebrows bowed up in amusement. “Jeez, buddy, even I’m not that reckless,” he scoffed.

Roy roughly hauled him to his feet and twisted his arm behind his back, with a small, tart smile at Dante. “On your feet, lad, you’re alright. You’re lucky she stopped with your face.”

He looked at the kids sternly. “I want you to stay inside, at least till I get back. Magda’s out on an errand of her own. Don’t do anything dumb, the building needs some looking after,” he said, eyeing their furtive looks. “I’ll fix the windows as soon as I get back.”

He then dragged the whimpering, failed invader outside roughly. The two teenagers watched as he thumped the door closed in his wake and Dante shrugged. He looked at Tess, who seemed drained. She finally breathed out and her shoulders relaxed.

“Hey, let’s get something to drink,” he said. “All that work made me thirsty.”

Tess seemed ready to roll her eyes at him but then just shrugged. “Fine. Then we both get back to our chores. I have to mop and sweep the glass.”

They went into the lounge and Dante noticed that absently, she played with the knife, tossing it up and down in her hand a couple of times with unnerving expertise.

“Besides… we gotta talk,” he added casually.

She tossed the knife into the sink. “Yeah? Is it about you hanging outside my room this morning?”

Dante cringed. “Nevermind that,” he grumbled and opened the fridge. “What do you want?”

Tess ducked under his arm and plucked two cider bottles from the door shelves. She handed him one.

“Well whatever it is, let’s go out back,” she said, popping the cap off easily with her hand and headed for the back door.

Dante gave her a curious look; he didn’t think she’d be much of a drinker, let alone cider, but he shrugged it off and accepted the offered drink. He took a nice, big gulp of it as he crossed the door and blurted a refreshed sigh. Then he joined her when she sat on the grass across what was left of the junk pile. He decided to be frank, to the point of bluntness.

“I heard a lot yesterday from your granny after you stormed off.”

Tess took a slow gulp from her bottle and then started to fiddle with a blade of grass.

“I thought you might,” she said irritably. “So what did she tell you? What a despicable criminal my dad was, or was she more focused on the fact that he was a freakish monster? Did the topic of me being completely crazy come up? Must have.”

Dante shrugged and took another sip of his cider. “Bit of column A, bit of column B. Look, that’s not important. Why’d you blow up and run away?”

They stared at each other, reluctantly quiet and then, awkwardly, looked away from each other because the mutual intense stares caused her cheeks and the bridge of her nose to turn a shade of pink.

“Because the whole thing was fucked up,” she grumbled. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not really angry at you. Grams and Roy made me look like a moron. Grams likes her stupid power-games and Roy… Roy’s probably trying to teach me a lesson about trusting people.”

Dante tilted his head a little. “Yeah, I got that part. Can’t say it was very fair for you. But you still freaked out when you found out about me.”

“I’m pissed about that because…” she hesitated. “Because it makes things awkward and stupid and complicated. I sorta thought… like we were on an even playing field. But then Roy drops that bomb and suddenly I’m the not just the idiot, I’m at the bottom of the heap.”

“Aw c’mon, don’t be like that,” Dante groused. “I didn’t know shit about this until last night either.”

“Dante, I’m only here because your father pissed off a whole lot of witches,” she sighed. “Whether I like it or not, I kinda owe your dad – but at the same time, I’m angry because I’ve always been angry at how witches would treat me if they knew who I was – they don’t forget that your dad pissed them off. You have no idea how awkward this is for me.”

“You don’t owe anyone squat,” he huffed, taking another gulp of the cider and checking the label. “I don’t give a damn what my old man did. For all I care, it’s just a good deed. Two people saved and bam, you.”

Tess grunted irritably. “This still sucks. I’m gonna act all weird about this for ages.”

“Just let it go, Twig. I’m not gonna fuss. I don’t care what your dad did or who he was and I’d appreciate it if you did likewise,” he sighed.

He polished off the rest of his cider.

Tess frowned and looked back at the grass. “Alright then… how come I found you snoozing right outside my door today?” she asked flatly.

Dante winced and got up, dusting his pants. “Just got locked out,” he grumbled.

She snorted. “I left from the fire escape. I needed some time alone to think and I didn’t want Grams to catch me. I didn’t wanna see you either, but there you were so I sneaked past you.”

Dante chuckled and stretched. “One day you love me, the next you can’t stand me. I don’t get women!”

Roy wasn’t coming back for a while but Dante felt like finishing the job he was asked to do. If nothing else, he supposed it was fair.

“Will you stop it with that joke?” she muttered. “You saw what I just did to an asshole with a knife, right?”

Dante just grinned at her pink face and started to work on the pile once more, picking up pieces of junk and hauling them outside to the bin. It had gotten fairly cold outside by now and they maintained a long silence for a while as Tess finished her beer and watched him work.

“By the way… I found something interesting when I went out,” she said. 

Dante passed in front of her with an armful of old toys. “What’s that, then?”

Tess actually lay on her back on the grass. “More signs of Bloodgoyles in the park. Bad things have happened around there lately. I’d like to go back there and have a better look. I think that’s where our visitor followed me from, too.”

Dante made a face. “You got careless, there, Twig,” he said, coming back from the alley. “But fine, I’ll come with you when we’re done with this bullshit,” he added, gesturing to the junk.

Tess chuckled lightly. “Roy bullied you to help him clean the back yard? Huh, props to him. I always said Roy could get the devil to do his dirty work.”

Dante rolled his eyes at her.

She finally got up. “I better go clean up the kitchen. Grams might have a fit if she sees the blood and I don’t want her to curse me,” she sighed, picking up the empty bottles and heading inside.

Dante shrugged and grunted affirmatively. He disliked this whole ‘good kids’ nonsense they had to play but deals were deals. He killed time by working down the junk pile to a smaller size by the time Roy came back. The old man looked worn and graced Dante with a tired smile.

“Thank you for not ditching this job. You’re nearly done and I won’t ask you to do anything else. Finish it up while I go fix your window and then the kitchen one,” he told him. “Don’t forget to lock the door.”

He tossed a set of keys to Dante who snatched them out of the air.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dante huffed.

Still, it was nice to be appreciated and he figured Roy would be as good as his word. When he carried the last bit of junk to the dumpster, a broken TV set, the sky had turned darker and the cold had picked up. He was locking the back yard door when Tess poked her head out of a window on the floor above and asked him if he wanted to have lunch with her and Roy.

Dante smirked up at her. “I thought you were still mad at me?”

“I am but I don’t want to smell any more of your dumb nukemeals. You’re here now, we might as well feed you,” she scoffed. “Look, you hungry or not?”

Dante’s stomach left him with little choice in the matter – a gurgle that would depress a veteran hobo. He nodded and called back: “Yeah I’ll be in soon. Thanks.”

Just before she pulled her head in, he thought she might’ve smiled. He left the keys at Roy’s desk and grabbed a quick shower to wash off the sweat he worked up, then enjoyed a hearty lunch with Tess and Roy and endured a little more praise mixed with criticism about their spar. After that, he and Tess silently postponed their little excursion so she could help Roy deal with a rather large moisture stain in the hallway of the vacant third floor. Dante took the time to slip out and do a little exploring of his own, but he kept things mostly around the general area of the building.

By the time he got back, he had more or less worked out the size of the building’s ward and its general strength, both quite considerable, as well as the best escape routes in and out of the area. With light rapidly waning, Dante collapsed on his bed with a satisfied grunt. All in all, a decent evening’s work. And yet the entire time, something ate at his mind – he’d been thinking of his mother. Maybe it was having heard so much about Tess’ problematic family or Roy’s blunt observations. Or maybe… he simply missed her. It was an ache he often had to fight to bury but this time it was more of a simple longing to see her well-loved face.

He rolled over and reached for the nightstand next to his bed, where he kept her photo.

It… wasn’t there.

Dante froze up. Panic seized him. He jumped out of bed and looked around his room. He searched frantically through the, theoretically, organized mess that was his room. Clothes and a couple of dirty magazines were prevalent. His mother’s picture simply wasn’t around.

“Oh fuck, what the hell? Where’d it go?!” he mumbled. “Where is it? Did I fucking lose it?!”

He tore the room apart, practically until hunger and frustration drove him downstairs for a late-night meal and a short break before he searched some more. He was highly frustrated and when he stomped into the kitchen he gave Tess a bit of a fright as she was cooking up some dinner.

“Hey, what the hell’s wrong with you?” she asked, adding some chopped herbs to a stew. “You’re stomping up and down the stairs like Godzilla.”

“Mind your own damn business!” Dante snapped.

He tore open the microwave dinner box and literally threw it into the appliance before slamming the door shut. The buttons squealed in protest as he jammed his finger into them to set the machine and then leaned back against the counter, arms crossed and head hung, stewing in his misery. He didn’t care if his irritation offended Tess.

She stared at the whole scene with a raised eyebrow then coolly covered the bubbling pot and leaned against the counter opposite him, also arms crossed. Dante looked at her from under scowled eyebrows and through his unruly bangs and saw her bite her lip awkwardly. Just as she was about to speak to him, he let his frustration loose.

“ _What_?!” he barked.

“Gah!”

Tess almost jumped at his snarling but then she got angry. She got in his face and _yelled_ at him.

“What is wrong with you!? Bellowing like a freakin’ dragon! I was just gonna tell you I’ve got something of yours!” she snapped.

Before Dante could even blink, she pulled a photograph out of her back pocket and held it out to him.

“Just take it,” she growled.

Dante stared down at it. “No way—“ He snatched it.

“Roy found it when he was mending your window. The frame must’ve fallen to the floor because it just about shattered and he told me to give you the photo back while he fixes that for you,” she muttered. “Said something about making amends.”

Dante’s irritation melted away and a small smile crept up his face. The photo was undamaged and his mother smiled up at him contentedly. He looked up at Tess with a bit of guilt for needlessly lashing out at her.

She huffed. “Sorry I didn’t return it sooner, I got caught up with my chores and cooking.”

Dante sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh... thanks. And sorry I snapped at you.”

Tess shrugged. “Eh, it’s fine. You know, she looks a bit like you. Just, you know, beautiful,” she said a little slyly. “Your mom, right?”

He was willing to let that little barb slide and just smiled tartly at her. “Yeah. She’s beautiful alright,” he muttered. He awkwardly stared at the photo.

“…I miss my mom too,” she said suddenly, looking away. “I’m sorry for not remembering sooner.”

She stared at the pot of food and started to curl some hair around her finger nervously. Dante ignored the ding of the microwave behind him and looked at her. Then he glanced towards the lobby.

“That picture Roy’s got over his desk,” he said. “That your mom?”

Tess bit her lip and looked away again. “Yeah. Roy says we look alike. I don’t know. She seems… happier or nicer than me. Although… Roy _also_ says I have her bad temper.”0

Dante studied her face; yeah, he could see the resemblance although Tess’ features were more rounded, just drawn with concern and what might have been stress. Her chin was more willful and her skin fairer with all those freckles. She was kind of… cute? He recalled that Tess’ mom was called Sophie. She looked so young in that photo.

“She looks about your age in the photo,” he said.

“She was a bit older, I think. Maybe close to eighteen?” Tess said with a distracted shrug. “I think that was taken a few months before she ran away with my dad. Roy’s very attached to it.”

Dante turned around and finally grabbed his nuke dinner. “He’s got a point, you do have a temper,” he chuckled. “But I guess she would’ve been proud to see her little Twig’s not afraid to sling that temper around.”

She scowled at him. “Are you _ever_ gonna stop calling me that?”

“No,” he fired back at her and grinned at her irritated look. “So… about the park thing…”

“Bit after midnight. Hallway,” she said quietly.

He nodded and headed upstairs to his room. The joke was on him, after all because he was confronted with the disheveled state of his rooms – again. The result of him scouring the rooms for his mother’s photo. Until Roy gave him the frame back, he wedged it in the corner of the mirror hanging by his bed and surveyed the chaos he’d made.

 _“I almost feel like she cursed me again,”_ he thought with a soft sight.


	7. Ice and Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dante and Tess run up against a really big problem.

Around midnight, the building always grew quiet and Dante usually respected that. Most lights were turned off but there was always a faint glow coming from the lobby where a lamp on Roy’s desk shed a soft yellow light. Dante edged towards the top of the stairs and peeked down into the lobby. Roy was true to his feline nature; the cat was curled next to one of the heating shafts along the wall and seemed sound asleep. Dante was pretty sure that he wasn’t about to let them go gallivanting like this but he assumed Tess had some plan.

He had closed his door very slowly and gently, making sure his keys were securely in his pocket. He now stood in the dark hallway, with his sword secured to his back (no point in the guitar case at this late hour, he assumed) and waited impatiently for Tess. He crept along the hallway to her door as quietly as he could, praying that Roy would either not hear or dismiss his footsteps as a bathroom trip or something. He tapped his fingertips lightly on her door and glanced at the stairway in trepidation. He had a half-hearted thought of leaving without her but he still needed her guidance… and he didn’t want to deal with her wrath if he left her behind.

Besides, things seemed to get more interesting with her around.

Tess opened her door quietly and slipped out. She was thickly dressed in jeans and a hoodie under a jacket with a tightly wound scarf. She seemed to be expecting cold weather.

“Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s get out before they catch us.”

They tiptoed to the hallway window facing the side of the building and, after Tess hurriedly muttered some incantation and made a few signs with her hand to avert the wards from giving them away, they got it open quietly. They navigated the fire-escape carefully, trying to avoid making too much noise. Instead of lowering the ladder, they climbed down into the alley using some strategically worn bricks in the façade – Tess confessed to making them as a means to sneak out undetected.

The weather had taken a turn to the worse; it was very cold and windy and in fact, it had begun snowing gently, the snow settling in a thin layer on the ground. The flakes drifted to the ground in clusters without melting and the wind made them dance about. Dante looked up, amused, and cheekily opened his mouth, catching several flakes on his tongue, which made Tess snort quietly.

Dante found the cold refreshing from the somewhat stifling heat of the building but he knew he might become uncomfortable if it got colder. Tess unlocked the back fence door for them; they slipped out and she locked it once more.

“This is getting ridiculous,” she muttered. “When Grams got home, I tried to talk her out of this dumb turtling she has us doing. But she wouldn’t listen to a thing I said, stubborn old bag. All she’ll repeat is how I should stay out of it. She thinks that after her deal with you, I need to sit tight. I don’t care if she thinks I’m crazy,” she muttered and then her angry gaze turned to him. “Unless _you_ think I’m crazy too.”

“Of course I do. I like it,” Dante said cheekily. “Now let’s book it before we’re caught, I can’t deal with this bullshit.”

She snorted at his attitude but just shook her head. They hurried away from the building and Dante kept his ears and eyes open for any trouble along the way. The streets were empty and the street lights did little to alleviate the oppressive darkness settling in through the town. When they reached the main street, no longer protected as much from the wind by the buildings, a cold gust of wind hit them straight on. Dante didn’t mind it much but Tess blurted a little yelp and tried to shrug into her jacket and scarf further.

“Cold?” Dante asked almost dismissively.

“Shut up,” she snapped a bit. “It’s the downside of the fire thing I do. Cold hits me hard. Nevermind, let’s go—“

Dante feigned a sigh that was, perhaps, a little over the top. “Hang on,” he said and caught her by the shoulder.

She stopped, puzzled and stared as he pulled the sword off his back and stuck the tip into the ground. He removed his coat, already warm from wearing it, and draped it over her shoulders. His snug and thick sweater with the turtle neck would do him just as well.

“What are—“ she tried to protest.

“Too late,” he said, securing his sword to his back again. “This is shit you need to tell me, Twig. You’re not gonna do much if things go wrong if you’re turning into a popsicle.”

She just stared at him in bewilderment and her face started to get red – from the cold, from her confusion, it didn’t matter.

“Um… I—“ she stammered, pulling the coat on and finding, to her amazement, that it fit her even over her jacket.

She held out her arms and the sleeves hung beyond the ends of her hands comically and she stared at them, perplexed. The bottom of the coat nearly reached her ankles.

Dante grinned. “Wow, you really are fun-sized. Don’t read too much into it, Twig,” he chuckled. “Just don’t want you freezing before we get to the bottom of this.”

He bent slightly and with a flourish, gestured towards the road ahead. “After you!”

She squinted at him irritably then swept past him, muttering a few words of thanks. He followed her with a wide grin; it was truly hilarious to watch her. His coat looked so big on her that you thought it would begin to drag on the ground any moment now and her hair blended almost entirely against the red duster. She tried to walk angrily but she just ended up looking… cute.

In the kind of way that cats killing songbirds are cute, probably.

He tried not to laugh audibly. “Zips up too, if you’re still cold,” he managed and chortled at her little growl. 

“You can’t make fun of my size forever,” she muttered. “I could still kick your ass if I wanted!”

Dante couldn’t help his smug smirk. A challenge was it? He was pretty sure she wasn’t really going to try but he welcomed the vitriol. “Feel free to try someday, Twig, just don’t cry when it doesn’t work,” he said. “So where exactly _did_ you find Bloodgoyle traces?”

“Just a few blocks ahead,” she replied.

Tess said nothing for a while as they walk, then seemed to hesitate a few times. “Tell me something,” she finally said. “What’s… what’s the worst demon you’ve encountered so far? I… I don’t actually know what I should be ready for, here. I’m sort of new to this.”

Dante found himself startled. He hadn’t expected that kind of question. Before he could come up with some witty rejoinder and dismiss the entire issue, a flood of memories assaulted his composure. He tried to bury them, tried to push them away but the cold and the howling of the wind and the faint smell of moisture made them barrel forth unrestrained. They were still far too raw in his mind, despite his best efforts and he once again cursed his gifted memory for retaining them so vividly.

His mother’s panicked, trembling voice as she hid him in a secret panel in the wall and hurried off with his brother.

The loud crashes, the whine of snapping wood and the crumbling of concrete, the shattering glass and the blinding light coming through a crack in the wall.

The three floating red orbs of fire. The hate and the callous, impotent rage.

His mother’s defiance, the long, agonizing defiance and the prolonged screaming at the end.

The blinding flash and all that red, that horrible, horrible red.

He closed his eyes and resisted the urge to scream. The paralyzing claw of fear around his young heart.

His panicked breathing.

The silence in the end, it seemed everlasting; the endless wait.

The terrible sight that awaited him when he finally had the courage to emerge, half-delirious with exhaustion, starvation and thirst: Scattered strands of his mother’s beautiful hair and blood sprayed across the wall in a delicate pattern of droplets. The house was unrecognizable.

Nothing was ever the same again.

He blinked.

And just like that, he was back in the present. The cold nipped at his skin and he shook his head to loosen the cobwebs. His expression was carefully blank and his throat was dry and silent. He’d actually stopped walking. Tess stood a few paces ahead of him, having turned back, looking at him. He was torn between anger and grief and… and something he couldn’t quite describe. She looked upset and remorseful together.

As he blinked again, clearing his head, she stepped closer and he realized: he knew that look on her face. Yes, she seemed upset but also… Dante had the curious feeling that she _recognized_ his struggles to keep it all bottled up.  She knew. Her hand reached out and her fingers hesitated, searching for his hand, like she wanted to make sure he was there.

Her hand was surprisingly delicate and warm.

“Dante…?” she asked quietly. “Are you—“

“I’m fine.”

He sailed past her, whipping his hand away and the moment shattered. His face felt hot and his eyes stung. He was angry at her and yet… not. He shut his eyes and walked on blindly. When he was sure the distance was enough he hurriedly raised a hand and wiped his eyes before she could catch up to him.

“Wait—“    

She actually had to jog to keep up with him, he was walking that angrily.

“You sound less and less like you should be here,” he said coldly. “Guts and fire tricks are only gonna get you that far.”

“What, you want me to leave?!” she snapped. “You don’t know what to look for.”

He scowled. “And you do?”

“I’ve been thinking… about the Bloodgoyles,” she said. “I mean, they need blood to even function, right? It’s just possible… that they have some bond with whoever’s blood they’re using—“

“I don’t have time for theories,” he said sharply. “I’ll grant you that they like showing up where there’s a lot of bloodshed and violence and from the look of things, they might be finding the city to their liking. Something’s going on and they’ve shown up like vultures.”

“But you’ve never seen anything like the lunatic we saw, right?” she pressed.

He grumbled quietly. “No,” he finally admitted. “I’ve seen people possessed. He wasn’t. He was turning into a demon, inside out.”

“He can’t have done it to himself,” she added. “You can’t…. you can’t make _that_ precise a mistake. Not even complete amateurs.”

“It’s gonna happen again too,” he told her flatly. “Heck, it might’ve already happened. Had any luck with the shit that guy drew, by the way?”

She shook her head. “I consulted whatever I could without asking Grams but… if they really were some kind of ritual is none that I recognize. But it just felt…”

“…wrong,” he completed for her.

“Yes. Wrong,” she echoed.

“I bet you anything it’s some hotshot with a book of demon bullshit and a big bad demon he pulled out of his ass,” Dante grunted. “The loon we saw was just a puppet. Which is fine by me. I’ll just have to put ‘em all down.”

He smiled suddenly and he noticed with some satisfaction that Tess seemed to grow tense at his gleeful anticipation of a fight. He always felt good when he put a bullet through a demon’s skull or stuck his sword in their gullet – and he wasn’t afraid to make it plainly obvious. His anger started to evaporate under the newly perked up motivation.

“Still…” Tess said hesitantly. “I can’t help but be concerned. Grams says the city’s always been… weird but I don’t think she’s ever actually dealt with anything.”

Dante scoffed. “Figures. No wonder she wants me to stick around even if I rub her the wrong way. Insurance.” He feigned a sigh. “I guess I’ll take the job but you better let Roy know I ain’t gonna pay rent if I’m being the muscle.”

“Put a sock in it,” she snapped. “You’re acting like we’re entirely defenseless. You’re not the only one who can put up a fight—“

“ _You_ can always duck for cover if we run into some action,” he interrupted her. “I won’t judge. Right now all that matters is finding out that the park’s got for us, don’t you think?”

She said nothing and they just walked on. He put his head down to guard his face from a particularly nasty gust of icy wind and Tess shrugged even deeper into his coat, looking grateful to have it. The snowfall seemed to be getting more intense and the layer of snow on the ground getting thicker, crunching softly under their footfalls.

The fence around the park was old, the kind of Victorian sandstone and steel construction that could last forever, at once ornamental and forbidding. Beyond the shut gates, the darkness cloaked what looked like a large open space with trees now bare and laden only with snow. Weak street lights punctuated the darkness with their feeble glow.

“This is it,” Tess said quietly. “I was here earlier and I felt something strange. And I think… I still feel it now.”

“Good,” Dante said casually. “Means I didn’t come all the way here for nothing.”

He sniffled a bit and rubbed his nose. There _was_ something about the place… but in his somewhat hyped state, he might have _wanted_ there to be something.

 _“Lose your temper and lose your head,”_ he heard Roy say in his head.

Dante blinked. The presence of demons here, in the middle of a city, was a bad thing. And he really was looking forward to just that. He glanced at Tess and saw her staring at him, brows furrowed. He constantly forgot she could see his aura and what it did. He probably was not giving out very good signs. He felt a twinge of guilt bubble up from his chest.

“Do you ever hate it when Roy’s right?” he muttered suddenly, taking a moment to compose himself.

“All the time,” she replied knowingly, turning away to examine the shut gates. “Can’t be helped, he’s ancient. What did Yoda tell _you_?”   

Dante grimaced and chose to ignore the question. “Nevermind. Let’s get inside and look around,” he said, very easily jumping almost to the top of the fence and vaulting over it.

Perhaps a _little_ smugly, he turned to see what Tess would do. “Got any ideas where to start?”

Tess frowned but pulled back the sleeves of Dante’s coat a bit and climbed the brick wall. “From the gates here, let’s just wander in towards the lake and see what’s around,” she said, carefully getting herself over the pointed barbs of the fence.

Dante cocked his head a bit as she jumped down. “Lake? The place has a lake?”

“Bit glorified but it’s pretty deep and the ducks like it. I think people go rowing on it in the summer,” she sighed. “It’s close to the middle of the park so it should help us orient ourselves.”

Dante groaned. “It’ll take ages. Can’t you use your freaky radar thing to save us some time?”

“Sure and while I’m at it, would you like me to predict the next grand lottery numbers?” she snapped irritably. “If I had any such control over it, don’t you think I would’ve done so already?”

Dante squinted and saw a bit of moonlight reflecting off a white sheen in the gloom and the flicker of tremulous street-lights. The lake, he presumed and further back…

“What’s that?” he asked Tess, pointing a strange structure rising nearby from the trees.

It looked spindly, like the skeletal remains of a large beast and just barely enough walls left to pass for a structure.

“That’s the old manor that the park was attached to. Burned down in a fire just after the Civil War, they kept it as is as a kinda monument,” Tess said. “The park land belonged to the family and they donated it to the city. They keep saying they’ll renovate or something but as you see, it ain’t happened.”

They stood there, staring at the structure in the distance.

“Something is off,” she said and shivered. “This cold—“

Dante narrowed his eyes. He felt something too, a chilling sensation trying to creep up his spine and the cold wind cutting just a little more deeply. Dante glanced at her. He thought that she was getting tense, looking like she wanted to bolt.

“Hey, you’ve got my coat, Twig,” he jested. “I’m not stripping any more for you. “We’re here for demons, not a date!” he added cheekily and set off towards the lake.

Tess groaned loudly and glared at him. “Oh my shit, really? _Really?!”_ she snapped, following after him. “You think I want to see you naked? Keep dreaming! And don’t tell me you can’t fucking feel something is weird here. The cold isn’t normal. It _hurts_ in ways cold doesn’t and you know what that means?”

“Yep! Demons!” Dante replied cheerfully. “But keep denying your love for me if it helps you sleep better, Twig.”

While she was absolutely right and he could, indeed, feel a presence in the air, he still smirked a bit because picking on her was funny. Besides her occasional blushing and eye-rolls and the indignant snapping, he didn’t quite understand how she _really_ felt about him. Riling her up gave him an excuse to get a better feel for her.

And then the wind died down suddenly and they were left in the quiet stillness of the night with very little light. The fine hairs on the back of Dante’s neck pricked up as a light tingle of excitement and anticipation climbed up his spine. In the pit of his stomach something uncoiled and his whole body responded with a growing tension. He felt like a dog that smells another canine in his stomping grounds.

Or was he, in this case, the invading dog?

“We’re being watched,” Tess said suddenly.

Dante’s eyes narrowed. “I know.”

They walked together now, Dante having slowed to a leisurely pace and keeping himself aware of where she was, just in case. Tess glanced around with a sharp, hard sort of gaze and all her previous indignation and anger were quite forgotten. When they got close enough, they found that the lake was frozen over and both stared at it.

“It got colder the closer we got,” Dante observed flatly.

“When we left the house it wasn’t cold enough to freeze a puddle, let alone a lake,” Tess concurred meaningfully.

Just beyond it, the pathetic shell of the old building stood dark and quiet, fenced off haphazardly. It looked so… incredibly obvious to Dante. Something had moved in. Something—

“Listen!” Tess gasped, grabbing his arm.

Dante did just that and heard it; a distant, rhythmic thrum, over and over like a far-off heartbeat. It sounded like…

“Birds?” he quipped. “No…”

The flapping got closer and louder, like a huge flock of birds flying overhead. They both looked up. Lithe figures of red zipped about above them, diving down and flying over their heads. A rising din of shrieks, flaps and hurling wind drew closer. The flock that descended upon them was _massive_. The flying creatures were so many and so dense that they looked like one huge creature, with hundreds of mouths and claws, all flying in an eerie, perfect choreography like one being. They were coming in hard and fast and as Dante studied the flock, he saw them rising from the ruined manor. As the swarm drew closer, its true size became evident.

There were hundreds of them, more than any Dante had ever seen in his life – more demons that he had ever seen gathered in one place at once, in fact. And yet all he felt was… excitement. Excitement at the prospect of fighting these little blighters and excitement at the idea of taking them down, all of them.

“Bloodgoyles,” he chuckled and popped his knuckles. “Looks like we hit the motherlode, Twig!”

He slipped out of her hold and drew both his guns as the flock swarmed around them, circling round and round and catching them in a great circle with no escape. He heard Tess curse but she sounded more determined than scared. His furious, rapid shots cracked the din of the swarming Bloodgoyles, sending showers of spattering blood to streak the snow underneath. Weakened and losing their agility as their exposed bodies turned to stone, a few of the hellish birds spiraled downwards erratically, only to find themselves cleaved in two as Dante’s sword flashed in his hands. The stone forms crumbled to pieces with every blow and every shot.

“Dante, no! We can’t—there’s too many of them!” Tess protested from just beyond his kill-zone.

He ignored her, only sparing a glance to see that she was standing ready, anxiously looking for the first assault towards her. His initial attack infuriated the swarm and it flew tighter around them, the cacophony of shrieks and snapping beaks rising to a crescendo of anger. Yellow, beady eyes flashed with unnatural malice and finally, a few birds detached from the flock and headed straight at her.

They were greeted by a wall of flame that roared into life as she swept her arm at them. They flew right into it and the air filled with the stink of burning blood and the sounds of sizzling liquid on a hot surface. A few of the creatures pulled away from the wall with steam rising off them. The rest lost so much of their bloody cover that they reverted to stiff stone, trying in vain to move with gritty grinding noises and screams of indignation.

Dante was happy to take advantage of their state and smashed them to pieces with a few swings of the sword. He grinned at her and the heat coming off the mobile sheet fire she swung around to deal with the hellish birds.

“Aw, and you’re so cold to me, Twig!” he chuckled.

She hissed a quiet curse at him. Three Bloodgoyles swept right at him. As the first came within reach, Dante pointed Ebony at it and shot it square in the head, knocking it back into one of its brethren and both were forced to retreat for a second sally while the third simply swept beside him, as though investigating rather than attacking. He opened fire at it, knocking it into stone, then broke it to pieces.

“Keep the fire up, Twig, you’re doing good! See if you can’t blow their heads up or something!”

“Stop distracting me, then!” she snapped back.

To underline her point, she was forced to create a new wall at her back after a Bloodgoyle very nearly took her by surprise. The scent of burning blood got stronger and the sound of sizzling liquid was a constant companion to the din of combat. Her walls of fire seemed hard to control as they lacked a fuel source of their own, merely maintained out of sheer will. The snow beneath them melted, turning into slippery and muddy slush with the dirt beneath it.

“There’s too many of them!” she said, causing a petrified Bloodgoyle to erupt into pieces with an explosive burst of fire.

A bunch of Bloodgoyles swerved out of the bigger flock and headed right for her, so she swung her arm as though throwing something, and two arches of flame collided with the demons, knocking them apart and stripped a lot of their bloody armor. To Dante’s rising concern, he found that the flock seemed angrier and closed in more densely to attack… and observe them.

He started to feel uneasy. He felt pinpricks along his spine, much like a twitching animal that senses danger. For all the huge number of eyes that were observing him, Dante’s demonic instincts screamed as though there was only one great presence just looming over him, staring down at him like a specimen in a Petrie dish. The large number of Bloodgoyles was confusing his senses a bit but he was certain that the cold was getting more intense and it was unnatural.

He spun out of the way of a swooping demon and dropped to a knee to avoid another, shooting a Bloodgoyle until it fell with a loud crash of stone. He twirled his sword and decapitated the stone creature in one swing. He darted to another one, freshly felled by Tess’ fire and smashed it apart. Shards of stone littered the ground now, along with puddles of runny water mixed with blood and mud.

The smell of it, the fire and the heat of combat, along with the tingling sensation every time he passed by Tess put a savage smile on his face. He shot down any he saw and every one that had the misfortune of reverting to stone was summarily destroyed by his sword. Some didn’t even need to be broken; deprived of their lifeblood in mid-air, the impact with the ground was enough to destroy them.

Dante dove at Tess’ direction; she was surrounded by erratically twitching stone creatures and crumbled chunks of stone and he had the awful feeling it was because so many more attacked her rather than him. They sensed she was weaker – they may even have known she was a witch and it stoked their persistence. Her fire kept them at bay and stripped them of their blood coating well enough but there so many continually assaulting her that she did not have time to properly destroy the immobilized ones before she had to turn around and fend more of them off. Even worse, he saw her panting and fairly stumbling in an effort to keep up with the pace of everything. Her fire faltered a few times, sputtering away before reigniting.

She put up a good fight but it was exhausting her.

“Tess?” he blurted, getting close and smashing another stone demon apart.

“There’s too many of them!” she panted. “I don’t even know if we’re making a dent in them!”

Dante cringed. He almost heard a strange whisper in the back of his head snarling in contempt at her feebleness – of course she couldn’t keep up, she was just a puny human. He shook his head briefly to beat that thought down. She was there, wasn’t she? She wasn’t cowering, she wasn’t complaining; she _fought_ and seemed ready to fight until she fell over from exhaustion.

Again, the ugly feeling of something – something ancient and unfathomable and _wrong_ , training its eye directly at them sent another chill down his spine. These Bloodgoyles were playing with them, like a cat playing with a cornered rat. They kept him from focusing his senses enough to find the _real_ threat here.

“Just hang in there, Twig,” he muttered as he dashed past her to catch a Bloodgoyle that was going for her back.

It crashed into the flat of his sword, sizzling from Tess’ flames and shrieking right as his face. Dante grunted and swung the sword to shove it off, just to see the creature split in two and reform as two more birds. Distracted by the mistake, he failed to notice a few more swooping in between him and Tess.

Before he could swing around he felt a hard collision with his back and talons gouging deep into his skin, tearing muscle and shattering bone. The force of the impact made him drop Rebellion. Then his feet left the ground. He blurted a surprised yelp that got Tess’ attention and made her look up. It felt like a cruel damn joke, being hoisted into the air by the large flying demon. He felt it try to peck at his neck and he quickly drew Ivory, bending his arm back as far as he could and opened fire at the demon’s head. A few deafening reports and an ear-piercing shriek, Dante felt it turn to stone… which resulted in both of them plummeting towards the ground. Dante tried to shove the stone creature off him but its talons were still jammed in his back.

From the ground, Tess watched the whole thing with wide eyes. She panicked and she did the only thing that occurred to her: Sent a bolt of fire towards the demon. The arcing bolt had already started its course when she realized the danger of it hurting Dante. She practically started to scream internally, pleading with it not to hurt him although she was uncertain if she could control its course now.

“Dante!!” she screamed.

The bolt hit the side of the groaning stone, shattering it to pieces with a loud din. A chunk flew straight into the face of a Bloodgoyle diving for Dante and knocked it away.

Her distraction was enough for other Bloodgoyles to attack her viciously. She ducked to avoid a dive-bombing demon, its talons just barely passing over her back and tried to drive another one off with a blast of fire, but it just altered its course. It struck her raised arm with the sharp edges of its wings and knocked her to the ground with a shout of pain. A streak of blood from her arm painted the snow red.

The smell of it seemed to drive the Bloodgoyles into an even greater frenzy, a unified screech rising from the mass as they circled in tighter.

Dante was battered by the impact of the fire bolt to the Bloodgoyle but it had freed him to confront a more pressing problem: the rapidly approaching ground. He didn’t even have time to right himself and collided with the ground back-first and _hard._ The impact sent a flurry of powder snow up into the air and Tess let a small scream when she saw him hit the ground like a stone. He’d fallen just a few feet away from her but the swarming Bloodgoyles were circling her tighter and tighter and to her horror she realized they were trying to herd her further away from him.

 _“Is he dead? No! Please don’t be dead!”_ she thought, finding her throat too dry to speak.

As the Bloodgoyles swarmed closer she forced herself to shout and fight back. “Get away from me, you flying freaks!!”

A wave of fire bursting from around her in a circle swept them aside, screaming and sizzling and gave her a precious few seconds to run.

Dante groaned quietly and managed to heave himself onto his elbow, then fired a few rounds into the face of a Bloodgoyle that ventured too close to investigate. It was knocked backwards, petrified and a few further shots blew its head clean off. He grunted painfully; it had been a long time since he’d last been this hurt and even longer since he’d taken such a nasty fall. Blood streamed from his nose for a few moments and as he tried to push himself up, some awful cracking noises came from his limbs. His ribs were also killing him and he pressed his arm over them as he stood.

He saw her making a mad dash for him and limped towards her, watching her dodge some very persistent Bloodgoyles with lashes of fire. He shot down a couple, before holstering his gun and painfully bending to pick up his sword. With a sudden swing he brought it down on a petrified demon and smashed it to pieces.

“Tess…!” he managed to croak, feeling his jaw slowly mending itself.

She reached him and grabbed his arm just as he seemed ready to try and get into the fray again. She looked entirely relieved to see him alive. She was panting and seemed almost as badly off as he was; her arm was still bleeding but she managed to give them some space to breathe with a wall of flame. The ferric smell of blood tickled his nostrils. There was a sweet undertone to it.

“Can you move?!” she asked him.   

Dante grunted and realized that his breathing was short and shallow and he was essentially aspirating blood in fine droplets that oozed out of his mouth. He spat and left an ugly red spot on the snow. Every breath he took sounded like grinding rocks almost and Tess looked at him with worry. He pushed her aside and pointed one of his guns ahead, shooting down another Bloodgoyle that made it through her weakening walls. It hit the ground hard, a piece of it breaking of and despite being in pain, Dante heaved Rebellion and smashed it to pieces. Tess almost bumped into his back as she fended off more of the Bloodgoyles coming at them from the other side.

“Just… too many!” she panted. “Dante, we can’t keep this up, we need to get out!”

She sounded scared and it added to his already mounting frustration. His demonic instincts were protesting; how could he allow these measly little scavengers to overpower him?! Their number was not important! He wanted to crush all of them and show her, show her just how outmatched she really was, this little human witch—

The piercing wind chilled them to the bone and the Bloodgoyles pulled back suddenly, shrieking and circled back towards the old ruin. Something rose out of it, a great big shadow enveloped in cold and darkness. It flew up and out of the ruin, its very presence and shadow seeming to dim the already weak light from the moon and the surviving street lamps. It landed heavily just beyond the crumbling walls of the ruin, standing upright and giving Dante a very good look at the sheer scale of this beast.

It was tall and lean, like a lizard on two legs with a stretched physique and massive leathery wings that stretched all the way to the base of a long, whip like tail. It looked like it was made of ancient rock and ice. Its head was small and held low as if weighed down by the massive horns that swept back from its skull towards its back and curved up. It unfurled its wings and a haze of frost precipitated from them; the ground beneath it iced over instantly and nearby trees rapidly grew large ice crystals. It stretched its neck to look ahead and Dante saw solid white, glowing eyes meeting his.

Suddenly it moved like a coiled spring and took to the air with a powerful beat of the wings, leaving a burst of sharp ice shards growing out of the earth in its wake. The remaining Bloodgoyles flocked around it, screeching and moving as one.  The two teenagers looked on in awe – and mounting fright. Dante was conflicted more than ever. A small part of him wanted to rush forward, meet head to head with this glorious demon and throw himself at it, to prove he was the better fighter, the better survivor. The better demon.

But a louder part of him was reeling, eyes peeled wide and his determination cracking. Tess could not speak, just breathed rapidly and shakily in a panic. He hadn’t quite fought something this large and intimidating before – and not in the state he was in. He was injured pretty badly, getting worn out and to make things worse, Tess was also hurt and looked even more exhausted than him. He’d be too distracted trying to protect her to fight effectively. His heart pounded against his chest but he made his decision and said something he never thought he’d say when confronted with a demon:

“And now we have to run.”

Tess didn’t even argue, both just turned and bolted as fast as they could, Dante still holding his ribs in pain while securing his sword to his back in a hurry. He pushed her ahead of him as he looked back and made a run for it, following her. They darted through the trees and when a large, spear-like icicle slammed into a tree-trunk beside them, they started to zigzag frantically. More of the large ice spears rained around them – Tess had to leap over one that landed ahead of her and she actually outpaced him.

Just as Dante began to wonder how far they could run with that thing on their tail, an ice shard went through his calf. He blurted a shout and stumbled to a knee but recovered quickly; Tess skidded to a stop, turned back and grabbed his hand to help him up. She kept holding his hand even as he limped after her, with the piece of ice lodged in his leg, the ends breaking off as he moved. He gritted his teeth against the pain and shouted at her to keep moving. Bloodgoyle shrieks filled the air as they rushed through a mass of evergreens, partly hidden by their snow-laden branches.

“This way!!” she said suddenly and pulled him through a mass of tangled, snow-capped shrubs and onto a path strewn with snow.

Dante frowned. He could breathe easier now and his chest hurt less, but he was dazed from the pain of the ice shard still lodged in his leg and all he could do was follow.

 _“What am I gonna do to object, anyway? Bleed on her?”_ he thought bitterly.

The Bloodgoyles flew after them frantically, getting ahead of the greater demon which started to snarl distantly. The thick branches of the evergreens proved a challenge for the demons, some even getting stuck as they tried to navigate the thicket. Shards of ice from the great demon tore through the trees and even struck down a few of the Bloodgoyles unfortunate enough to be in the way, freezing them solid upon impact.

When they broke through the trees, Dante saw a small structure ahead of them – a church. A couple of crooked gravestones were fenced off beside it with old, bent fencing. The structure was gritty, old masonry-work cobbled together from dark stone carved roughly. The short, squat belfry seemed to be almost an afterthought. They were headed straight for it.

Dante eyed the building with despair; she was crazy to think they’d be safe there.

“Won’t do us any good,” he groaned. “House of god or whatever, it’s still a man-made building and if that thing wants to it’ll just plow right through it!”

“Will you shut up!?” she snapped, glancing over her shoulder at him. “I know what I’m doing!”

As they covered the last few yards with the Bloodgoyles hot on their tail, Tess stretched her arm, hand spread open in a commanding gesture. She gestured at the doors frantically.

“Open! _Open!!”_

Dante sensed a flicker of magic in this chaos of demonic power and it felt like the melodious toll of a distant bell among a cacophony. The heavy wooden doors of the church thudded open just as they bound up the short flight of stairs. Dante felt weird suddenly, like the noise of the Bloodgoyles grew distant and faded. At the same time, another set of cries filled the air, deeper, throatier, as if rising from the bottom of a well. They filled the air, drowning out the cries of the demons from above.

Dante looked up and in the gloom he could discern the outline of stone gargoyles perched on the ledges and columns of the church. They seemed to be moving in a slow, dreamlike manner, their mouths curling in screams and snarls and their hands clutching on the edges of the stone they crouched upon. There were many of the stone creatures, hunched reptilians, grotesque little imps, snub-headed goblins and craggy-faced men with gaping mouths.

They were alive and yet not.

He looked back and saw that, against all odds, the Bloodgoyles’ reaction to the cries was to shriek in confusion and stop abruptly, swerving away from the immediate vicinity of the church. They seemed unable to tolerate the gargoyles’ cries and even the greater demon’s progress was halted. The ice spears stopped coming and it seemed to hesitate. It roared in rage and made an attempt to approach but was herded off as a crescendo of the gargoyles’ screams rose to meet its approach. It roared again and retreated, trying to circle around the small clearing the church stood in.

The church’s bell tolled suddenly, a loud, somber din that felt palpable and seemed to push the demons away even further.

The moment Dante crossed the threshold of the church, a horrible sensation of confusion overtook him. He could barely breathe suddenly and a chill ran down his spine. He felt… nauseous, almost, the ground under his feet swaying like the deck of a boat caught in a storm. Terror rose from the pit of his stomach and he wanted to turn around and run right back outside. Every effort he made to compose himself backfired as he felt even more confused. He knew this place quite literally screamed safety but it also _didn’t want him there._ His demonic instincts howled in protest and outrage and _fright_. He looked up into the vaulted ceiling of the old church and saw more gargoyles and had the uncomfortable feeling they were glaring at him. He felt potent, ancient magic permeating the place and it was bearing down on him like the scorching midday sun _._

He dropped to a knee just as Tess let go of his hand to whip around and hurriedly slam shut the heavy doors behind them.

“Wha… what the hell?” he muttered. “Tess, what the fuck—“

“Quiet, I have to do something!” she said in a panic. “These guardians will wreak havoc on you – this place is a church now but once it was the hallowed grounds of a coven.”

The screaming of the gargoyles rose to an insufferable pitch and Dante felt like he would throw up. He was panting and stumbled back against the doors. He had half a mind to break them open and run away. Tess ran forward to the middle of the small church, bushing pews aside and uncovering a pattern on the tiled floor.

“The building’s dormant protections are still here, I have to just… adjust them…” Tess was panting, trying to uncover more of the pattern under old, moldy carpets.

Dante could hear the grinding of stone as the gargoyles moved above him and it filled him with dread. Tess was trying to do something; Dante could feel the sputters of magic over the pattern on the floor. Like an engine that coughed and coughed but wouldn’t start. Dante noticed that red droplets dripped from her arm – his coat’s sleeve was torn where she’d been injured. The smell of pennies and sweetness hit his nostrils again but he couldn’t pay attention to it.

“Come _on_!” Tess said in frustration.

“Twig…” her groaned, sliding to a crouch and actually had to clutch his head. He was feeling dizzy and disoriented.

Tess shouted in indignation and kicked a pew. She tried again and this time whatever she did seemed to unfurl painfully slow and spread, then she whipped around and shook her fist upwards.

“Stop it!! Stop it, you damn pipsqueaks!” she screamed. “What sorta half-baked guardians are you!?”

There was a sudden lull in the screaming that was almost… surprised.

“Leave him alone, you idiots!” the girl shrieked. She pointed at Dante, still glaring at the forms overhead. “ _I_ brought him here; _I’m_ taking responsibility for him being here. I don’t care if he smells funny to you little shits, you’ll leave him alone! Your old masters are _dead_ , get it?! But you’re here, you’re doing your job and protecting witches and you’ll damn well protect my allies so _SHUT! UP!_ ”

She stamped her foot in her indignation and the weakly unfolding magic shot outward invisibly like a wave, the resistance it encountered gone. Dante might’ve doubled over laughing if he didn’t feel so damn awful. Her glaring, her hair turned wild from the running and the wind and even bits of snow and twigs caught in it, his oversized coat – she honestly looked like a mad witch in red that had stepped out of a folk story.

But the gargoyles responded and fell silent – or at least their cries inside the church ceased. The building’s protective abilities still kept the demons at bay but inside, Dante felt the pressure on him slacking. He took a deep breath and recovered his composure and his dignity, getting to his admittedly rather wobbly feet and brushing his hair off his face. His breathing evened out and his chest didn’t hurt any more. He ran his hands over his face before looking up. The ice shard still left in his leg hurt and still wasn’t healing. He no longer felt the gaze of these now silent guardians and wondered whether they’d been so startled by the young witch’s rant that they just obeyed.

Tess was panting and had to reach out and steady herself against a pew, palming her forehead and trying to control her breathing. She looked up and they stared at each other awkwardly.

“What?” she blurted defensively.

“You have a fun approach to magic, Twig,” he said.

“What the fuck was I supposed to do? Witchcraft can’t be an elegant flick of the wrist every time. Sometimes a lot of screaming is all that works.”

Dante blurted a bemused laugh and limped further into the church at last, casting a quick look around and listening to his footsteps echo around the vaulted hall. The narrow windows let him catch glimpses of Bloodgoyles circling the structure from a distance and once in a while, he saw a bigger, darker shadow sweep past further back. A nasty snowstorm was battering the building, no doubt caused by the demon and he could hear the shingles on the roof rattling and pieces of ice shattering on the windows. Sometimes, an angry growling would punctuate the howling of the wind.

It sounded angry.

Tess followed him further into the church, lighting some of the half-melted candles left in altars around the church with tired flicks of her hand. She finally collapsed on the steps leading to the altar, managing to catch herself before she hit the ground and just sat down, exhausted. She rested her elbows on her knees and tucked her face in her hands.

“That thing outside…” she muttered. “Just… it’s so powerful. What is it doing here? Do you think it’s what caused that madman to change?”

Dante didn’t answer immediately, staring out the window at the circling foes. He was trying to think of how they could get out of this predicament. “I told ya we’d run into the big cheese tonight, didn’t I?” he said at last. “Just didn’t think he’d be this big.”

He slowly paced back and forth, thinking. Outside the snowstorm was still raging. The cries of the Bloodgoyles grew more distant but he knew it in his gut that the bigger demon was still lurking around.

“I don’t get how it got here, either. Demons that big can’t just… pop up out of nowhere,” he mused, raking his brains to think of how they could flee. “They can’t travel to the human realm as they please. Someone… _brought_ it here.”

He didn’t think he could take this thing on right now. He felt drained and his leg was not cooperating.

“If that’s the case… that person might be dead,” Tess said, pulling twigs out of her hair. “I mean… this thing… it’s so big. I’ve never seen a demon like this and… and—“

Dante turned and looked her because her voice trailed off and she stared ahead of her blankly. Her jaw started to tremble. Her hand, midway in the motion of pulling another twig out of her hair, dropped to her lap slowly. Her shoulders hunched together and she seemed to draw into herself. Her brows creased with worry.

He knew that look. He’d seen it in his face in the mirror sometimes. 

She leaned forward and pressed the balls of her clenched hands against her forehead, hyperventilating and hunching forward.

“No… no… no… don’t go there…” she whispered shakily.

Dante found himself limping over to her and sat down beside her, grunting as he slouched. He breathed in and tried to take the chunk of ice shard out of his leg. Most had broken off and the rest had frozen in place and it hurt to tug it, but Dante glanced at her. She looked so scared and in fact, when she started trembling he knew it wasn’t just because the church was growing colder.

He scooched closer to her and put his arm around her, to which she reacted by growing tense. Most people would elect to be gentle in this situation. They’d try to coax it out of her slowly.

Dante was not most people.

“You _have_ seen something like this before,” he said flatly.

He wanted to know just what she had seen that made her shut down so quickly. He actually caught himself feeling worried about her. The church provided a kind of safety that nearly lulled him into letting his guard down but he still listened. The snowstorm raged on and the slow, ponderous movement of the great demon outside hadn’t stopped. It was lurking now, waiting them out.

“Yes,” she said lifelessly. She seemed to just shrink against him even more. “They… they came when I was little. I don’t remember a lot. I try not to.”

He prevented his hand from clutching at her shoulder too tightly but his jaw set. That familiar tone, that familiar emptiness.

She tugged at some of her hair and her hand was shaking. “I remember the rain. It rained the night they came.”

“What happened?”

He felt her stiffen up again and she needed a few moments to answer. She spoke quietly.

“The screams woke me up. Mom burst into my room – I remember her hair being such a mess,” she whispered. “She carried me out of bed, saying I had to hide.”

He watched her hand go at her neck and tug a small silver necklace hanging by a black cord from inside her shirt. Nothing but a small, flat disk with a pattern of three moons. She nervously pawed at it and it seemed to calm her.

Dante bit his lip. Knowing her father’s history, this wasn’t surprising. The demons had come back for him. He wondered how she was telling him this so easily; he could picture her barely ever opening up to anyone – he bet that even Roy had to bully or coax it out of her in turns. Maybe he caught her off guard, or maybe suspecting that he understood the experience intimately was comforting to her. He gave her shoulder a light squeeze.

“I heard… dad shout. _They’re coming._ He had a workshop attached to the house – he made things. With metal. Jewelry, sculptures—“

Her voice cracked. “There was a hatch in the floor, where he stored materials. Mom sent me into the storage nook. I hated it down there. It was dark and dusty. But she told me to run. To get out from there and run – I’d… I’d done it before, I think.”

She wasn’t crying, but Tess’ eyes were wide and scared and she stared ahead of her blankly.

“ _You have to run,_ she said. _Whatever happens, **run**_ ,” she echoed the words of a woman long dead.

She almost began to rock back and forth slowly. “I tried… I crawled under the floorboards to reach the back yard. I was so small that I… I fit through. But I panicked.”

Her voice grew weaker. “I couldn’t move. I heard… I heard—they told dad to go back to them, that he could save me because – because I could be like him,” she quavered. “But dad knew they were going to kill mom and lie. He refused. He said he’d rather we all die than… than--”

She tucked her face in her hands and breathed hard. “I couldn’t run away. I heard them kill him. He fought so hard but they… they killed him. I saw his blood seeping between the boards…”

Dante fought back a shiver and swallowed hard. The visceral way she described it threatened to bring up his own awful recollections. Part of him screamed to have her stop, to silence this wave of grief but he felt compelled to listen. It would be hard to stop her now, at any rate.

“Mom screamed for a long time,” she said, staring at the floor. “I couldn’t move, I was so scared. I just… I heard her screaming and there was… nothing I could do. I don’t… I don’t know what they did to her. I just know she… she…”

She shuddered violently. “I felt them walking around. They were… they were looking for me and—and—“

She took a shaky breath. “They found me,” she whimpered. “They pulled me out of the floor like a rat. And I don’t… I can’t remember what happened then. Just…just—“

Her voice became laced with panic. “I can’t remember a thing after that…”

Dante let go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and stared at the floor. He found nothing to really say. He could only think about the irony of how alike they were. His arm was still wrapped around her shoulders and he drew her closer softly.

“Hey, it’s alright. Calm down,” he said and actually sounded soothing. “Deep breaths.”

She didn’t resist, just stared at the floor blankly, trying to stop her anxious breathing.

“You know… I kinda suspected this when your grandma and Roy told me about your dad,” he admitted. “I just… I guess I’m not used to hearing these kinda stories from survivors. You made it out, that’s what matters. You’re stronger than Magda thinks you are.”

Tess looked up at him. She looked a bit surprised and her face was still fixed in a mix of fear and worry.

“You gotta pull yourself together, now, though,” he added, looking at her. “We’re still stuck in this mess – that thing’s outside and it’ll either wait us out or find a way to blow through the walls to get to us.”

“R-right…”

“Plus, the scared little girl look doesn’t suit ya,” he said cheekily. “It’s better when you’re a hissy little wildcat.”

All the while, Dante had been fiddling with the ice shard in his leg, working it free little by little. He finally managed to pull it out with a nasty sucking and crunching noise and blood poured from the wound onto the floor. It seemed to shake Tess out of her panic attack and she flinched.

“Ugh! Don’t—don’t do that where I can see it! You _know_ that’s gross, right?!” she protested. She then stood up and pulled his coat off and held it out to him. “Put it back on, you’ll need it more than me.”

Dante smirked up at her and took it back. “Getting’ squeamish on me. Twig?”

Tess frowned at her and bent down to have a look at his leg but seemed unable to do much. The wound wasn’t healing and that started to worry Dante. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it might but that might have to do with the fact that the skin around it was frozen over.

“Sometimes I can’t decide whether I like you, or whether I want you to eat shit and die,” she muttered.

He grinned at her frustration, stood up and swept the coat over his shoulders after taking his sword off. “Anyway, we need a plan to get outta here, or we’re boned.”

“You’re right. We’re trapped rats in here, and—“

A tremor shook the church and the two of them backed up against each other from surprise. The screams of the gargoyles rose to an angry pitch and Dante had the impression something had rushed in, pressing itself against whatever protected them, trying to smother it. Then a loud sound came from beyond the walls, like a gritty rush of wind, a crack of thunder and an animal’s roar rolled together; the ground shook again for a moment and the howling of wind died out, as did the pattering of snow on the windows. The gargoyles silenced themselves all together at once. Both teens stared at each other for a moment, then looked around anxiously during the eerie, long silence. Dante reached for his guns.

A loud, inhuman scream cracked the silence, indignant and drawn, followed by the noise of heavy wings flapping away in a hurry before silence descended upon them. The teenagers remained silent, only their hard breathing and the blood pounding in their ears echoing around them. Dante could feel the tightness in the air slacking.

The next moment, the doors of the church unbolted themselves and one of them creaked open. Dante frantically pointed both his guns towards it but then lowered them immediately when Roy’s figure appeared there, panting and looking like he’d run a mile. His wrinkled face was twisted in anxiety and his hair, usually well-groomed, was a mess.

“Why are you two out here? Come on, we’re going back. _Now_!” he said sharply. He didn't shout, but had a very commanding tone to his voice that warned the two not to dare raise any objections.

Dante put his guns away and smiled broadly despite Roy’s tone. He was downright glad to see him. He limped towards him with Tess in tow, ignoring the fact that blood was seeping from his still open wound.

“Damn, am I glad to see you, Roy,” he blurted.

Roy’s gaze travelled from Dante’s leg wound to the gash on Tess’ arm and he looked quite unhappy, favoring the kids with a hard scowl.

“Yes, I can see that. Come on, move it; we shouldn’t stay here for long,” he said gruffly.

But he breathed out hard and the way he took Dante’s arm to help him walk showed how relieved he was to find them both safe.

Tess looked up at him guiltily as she followed. “Roy…”

“Not a word Tess,” he interrupted her sharply. “Be glad Magda’s busy and I won't tell her a thing about this. She’d have you both _hanged_. For all intents and purposes, Dante was here alone. Home, now.”

Tess looked too tired to retort and both kids allowed Roy to usher them out of the park. Dante looked around as Roy broomed them towards the park gates; the snow lay thick on the ground but the unnatural weight in the air and cold had subsided. There was no trace of the great demon to be found. He blinked a bit at the state of the ground around the church; it looked like a bulldozer had rampaged through it, earth and snow turned over in large gashes. The gate of the park they had climbed earlier now lay smashed open.

He gulped awkwardly and narrowed his eyes at Roy. What was the old man really hiding?

Dante felt his leg loosen a little bit as they moved away from the church but the wound hadn’t healed yet and that worried him. He’d never seen an injury of his that refused to heal. He glanced back at the park. Regardless of what Roy said, he had to come back and search it properly. That demon couldn’t be allowed to run around freely – not to mention that massive flock of Bloodgoyles.

For now, though, it seemed he and Tess would have to deal with Roy first.


	8. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Dante has a serious talk with Roy, then makes a complete and utter twit of himself.

None of them spoke all the way back to the boarding house, until Roy opened the door and let them in. He looked both really angry and disappointed at both of the teenagers and locked the front door behind him after he shut it. He whipped around and let out a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling like empires.

“Tess, go get cleaned up. Take the first aid kit from my desk. Sort yourself out, then stay in your rooms,” he told her sharply. “I may not tell Magda about this, but _I’m_ still grounding you.”

Tess looked startled; her eyes grew wide and her cheeks turned rosy with embarrassment. “Grou—What?! I’m nearly seventeen, you can’t _ground_ me!!” she protested, evidently finding the demand absurd.

But Roy was unmoved. He stared her down. “Oh yes I can, and I _am._ Go to your room. _Now,”_ he barked at her. “Argue further and it’ll get worse.”

Dante’s initial smile at being back in safe ground faded as he watched Tess shrink before Roy’s scolding and just running with it. He gulped a bit. Roy was really angry and by the look on Tess’ face, crossing him right now was not just ill-advised, but actually rather _stupid_ , even by his standards. Roy’s eyes were narrowed and hard and his jaw was clenched as though he was barely holding back a loud tirade. Whenever Roy’s gaze drifted towards him, Dante got the impression that Roy wanted to deck him.

Tess hissed vaguely in protest at Roy but she stomped past Dante up the stairs. For all her stubbornness and attitude, she really did seem to bow to Roy’s demands out of respect and maybe even a bit of fear.

Roy watched her go with an evident look of tough love but after she was gone, he turned that gaze to Dante.

“You. With me. Now,” he ordered sharply, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder towards the lounge. “Don’t even _think_ of arguing, unless you’d like your head decorating my wall. Kitchen. _Go_.”

Dante uneasily shuffled along as Roy _bullied_ him into the kitchen. He felt equal amounts irritated and exhausted and his leg felt funny – the wound was _still_ there, which scared him. He propped himself against the counter near the microwave, watching Roy carefully and waiting for the other shoe to drop – Roy’s displeasure was evident and Dante had no doubt that an explosion of some sort was coming. Dante expected a lot of cursing and possibly even some aggression and he was prepared to resist, any means necessary, even a fight. And yet, after seeing what he suspected to be Roy’s handiwork in the park, he wasn’t so sure he’d come out on top.

However, Roy did not raise his voice or lash out at him. Instead, he pushed a chair from the dining table in front of Dante.

“Put your foot up on the chair, let me see your wound,” he grunted, turning around and rummaging through one of the lower cupboards.

Dante obeyed with puzzled hesitation, wincing as he moved his leg. Roy was clearly very upset and Dante was mystified as to whether it was about his leg or what they’d gotten into as a whole.

 _“I thought he was gonna skin me after this one,”_ he thought to himself.

Roy scowled and grumbled, retrieving a sealed jar with some off-white powder in it and a small first aid kit. He yanked Dante’s pants-leg off the wound, ignoring the boy’s startled yelp of pain and inspected the half-closed hole on his shin. The shard had punctured the muscle from the calf to the front cleanly, but the bone was largely untouched. It hadn't healed and Roy gruffly explained that it was probably because the freezing power of the demon’s ice was more potent than Dante’s own ability to heal himself. The frozen flesh around the gaping wound was sort of bruised blue and looked almost shriveled.

“You two are more stupid together than you seem to be individually,” Roy grunted. “Running off in the middle of the night to pick a fight with Chernobog."

He poured warm water from the kitchen sink onto a towel and wiped the wound clean of blood, bits of mud and ice, surprisingly gently.

“Chern-the-what?” Dante echoed, flabbergasted.

“Chernobog,” Roy repeated flatly. “He's a lesser demon, rules cold and darkness. Perils of every traveler out alone at night. Very bad news.”

“You call _that_ a lesser demon—what, _he's_ responsible for all this mess?” Dante asked, ignoring the soreness of his leg.

He was actually quite surprised at how gently Roy was treating him, considering how he probably felt like decking him instead. Roy rolled back his shirt's sleeve and carefully used a pair of tweezers to pull out a sharp shard of stone that had wedged in the wound.

“Not sure. Chernobog is an old demon; hasn’t got time for cloak and dagger. I knew he might have favored the area but I didn’t expect him to just show his ugly face like this.”

“Wha—you _knew_ this guy was on the prowl!” Dante exclaimed. “You knew—and you're not doing anything!?”

“Oh be quiet,” Roy snapped. “Of course I’ve done something. But what I can do is fairly limited without doing more harm than good. I don’t even know how he got here – this land was a battle ground for demons once and last I heard he was sealed away with the lot of them.”

He gestured at the walls around them. “Why do you think Magda and I set up all these potent wards? I’m bound to them personally. My job is to keep us safe here, not go gallivanting about and picking fights with demons directly. I’ve got my share of power but I’m not quite as young as I was.”

“But back at the park you just—“

“I was lucky enough to catch him by surprise and scare him off, that’s what,” the djinn growled. “Listen to me. Just because I can doesn't mean I like nose-diving into trouble for the hell of it! You think I like it? Every battle carries risks, regardless of your power and I have responsibilities, towards people and towards myself. I have nothing to prove. But you two! Just what were you thinking?”

Dante glowered at him. “We didn’t _know_ Chernobyl or whatever his name is was there. We were just looking into a bunch of Bloodgoyles. Thought we’d take some potshots at some flying rats,” he muttered. “Well, I would, anyway.”

Roy snorted derisively. “ _Looking into!_ Oh yes, that's smart,” he snapped.

He abruptly tipped the jar he’d brought and poured some of that odd powder over the wound. It fizzed and even _smoked_ a little when it hit the skin, causing Dante to curse violently from the sudden hot pain, but then Roy slapped another wet towel over it and the pain was gone. The wound healed completely almost immediately.

“Listen to me, Dante. You might be half-demon but whether you like it or not, you’re still a _child_. So is Tess. You both have more experience with demons than anyone your age should,” Roy said seriously. “But clearly, not enough to be wise! And if you continue to act so recklessly, charging in before you’re aware of what you’re dealing with, neither of you might live long enough to _get_ wise!”

Dante irritably looked away briefly. “Kids or not at least we’re _doing_ something!” he countered. “All you and Magda do is sit here like turtles in a shell and she expects me to report to her like a good little soldier. Maybe if you both got off your asses--”

He was lying; he knew in his gut that even if Roy took point, he’d never be happy in the sidelines and he even had the suspicion Tess was done sitting things out herself.

Roy seemed to catch him lying and scoffed. “You, back out? Fat chance,” he said, shaking his head. “But at the very least, you can’t possibly deny that you went into this situation _very_ thoughtlessly. You _both_ jumped the gun.”

“It’s not like we _planned_ that!” Dante replied, frustrated. “We were just going to investigate.”

“You evidently had planned enough to sneak out,” Roy snapped back. “But not enough to consider you were bringing someone not as invulnerable as you into a potential fight.”

Dante felt his eyebrow twitch and he got angry. The old man was implying he hadn’t been _protecting_ the Twig properly! “Are you kidding me?! _I_ got the shit kicked out of me and _I’m_ the one bleeding all over the place! She barely got scratched!” he snapped, even though he was fully aware that wasn’t true. Not only had Tess gotten hurt, she had been exhausted by the whole ordeal.

“She’s a lot tougher than you and the old lady think she is! For fuck’s sake, we’re not dead because _she_ got us into that church!” he added, somewhat surprised he was giving her such kudos.

Roy _snarled_ at him like a big cat abruptly and Dante almost jumped. “Do not raise your voice at me, _pup_!” he snapped. “I don’t care how strong you think she is. I don’t want her anywhere around such a demon. She doesn’t know how to fight like you do and she can’t survive such an encounter. And I can’t – I can’t protect you two all the time.”

Dante blinked as Roy’s voice deflated towards the end. He sounded worried – not just about Tess. Roy was worried about him too and that actually took him by surprise. Nobody had worried about him in a long time – nobody had even concerned themselves with him. He had actually sort of forgotten what that felt like, being someone’s concern. It was both somehow frustrating, guilt-inducing, a little embarrassing and gratifying all at the same time.

“I didn’t ask you to protect me,” Dante muttered, irritated.

“Well, too bad!” Roy grunted. “I see potential in you, dammit. And for what it’s worth, I quite like you. But you’re so stupid!”

Dante looked away, suddenly feeling like an ungrateful brat. “You can’t protect everyone forever…” he muttered.

“I know that, numb-nut,” Roy snapped.

Roy suddenly looked really tired and old as he sat heavily on a chair. He rubbed his forehead with his hand. “Tess… is a lot like her mother. She’s got spirit, she’s got guts and she’s twice as smart. But… damn everything, she can barely do half of what her mother could when she was that age,” he groaned.

He looked up at Dante’s curious look. “It’s one reason Magda gives her so much hell. Tess isn’t as advanced as she ought to be and it’s not for lack of trying. I don’t know if it’s because of her father’s blood or because Magda makes her feel like garbage all the time. She knows _how_ to do things but can’t pull them off,” he grumbled.

Dante frowned. He recalled how Tess had a few false starts when trying to fix the protective seal in the church. He didn’t quite want to tell Roy that.

“She shouldn’t be getting this tired from using her powers. She’s stubborn but that isn’t enough. If she can’t protect herself even against something like Bloodgoyles, what are her chances against something like Chernobog?” Roy continued, looking at him pointedly.

They were left staring at each other. Roy’s face was lined with concern and exhaustion – mental rather than physical.

“I get it,” Dante said uneasily.

“Good,” Roy grunted, then rubbed his face with his hands. “For pity’s sake you two were lucky. I can’t believe it took me so long to work out you two were gone. And if that damned demon hadn’t been acting so funny I might not have gotten there in time. I’m amazed he was--”

Dante eyed Roy carefully. “Why?”

Roy looked at him and frowned. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. “It’s not…” he hesitated. “Oh sod it. Someone needs to know. There was something odd about Chernobog. I’m not sure what. But I felt…”

Roy leaned back and stared at the ceiling thoughtfully and Dante leaned in. “You gonna finish that thought, old man?”

Roy seemed to snap back to reality. “It felt like there was something else there with him. I can’t explain it. As far as I know, Chernobog isn’t the type of demon to really fixate on a pair of kids, even if they are a witch and a half-demon. And all those Bloodgoyles… I’ve known there have been a lot of them around but I can’t think why they would all be gathered there.”

He looked at Dante thoughtfully. “Do you know something funny about Bloodgoyles… it’s said  that the blood they are bathed in makes them the eyes and ears of whoever’s blood it is… but that’s just a story. I can’t tell you if it’s real or not.”

Dante’s lips narrowed. “Tess did say she thought we were being watched. I thought she meant Chernobyl.”

Roy smiled half-heartedly at the boy. “I hope it was that simple. But there is something very wrong going on. Chernobog was bad enough on his own, but if something else is afoot, then I am in the dark as much as you are.”

“Do you think he’s doing someone’s bidding?” Dante asked him.

The more they talked, the more Dante felt an urge to challenge the thing rise in him. If that demon was such a threat, then perhaps he ought to track that blighter down… And despite what Roy said, Dante felt he could take it on, if he was properly rested and didn’t have Tess to worry about.

Roy got up and started cleaning up, mopping up some blood from the floor, tossing the used towels into the laundry basket and putting the jar back into the cupboard. “I don’t know. I could think of a few ways to do that, one worse than the other. But I just haven’t got enough to go on. Whatever is happening is pretty subtle, and believe me, I’ve been looking.”

He then turned back around. “And don’t think that you’re the only ones who want to do something. Magda doesn’t want to tell Tess, but she’s scared. She’s not as powerful as she once was and ever since Erik, she’s been a little isolated from other covens. She has no help and I don’t think she’s any closer to getting support, the way she acts, the old bag,” he grunted. “She’s too scared to take action, even though she _should._ That’s why she doesn’t want Tess involved. You… look, let’s be honest here, even you would have a hard time. It doesn’t matter if you’re Sparda’s son. You don’t have the experience.”

Dante tried to protest but Roy raised his hand to stop him. “Take my advice, whatever you do, _tread very carefully._ Not every demon you meet will be as straightforward as a fight.”

Dante nodded grimly and stood straight. He was tired, although he felt better than earlier. He flexed his neck as he ambled towards the stairs, just to turn around at the lounge door and ask Roy something.

“Hey Roy… one last thing. Tess… said she doesn’t remember what happened to her after her parents were killed,” he said. “How did she get outta there?”

Roy froze, midway from retrieving a mop from the corner of the kitchen. “She… she _told_ you, about that?” he said, startled.

Dante nodded.

Roy's brows bowed up and he tilted his head sideways, surprised. “How strange… Whatever did you say to her? She never speaks about that night, not even to me. It took me ages to get the story out of her when she was a child and she’s never spoken about it since,” he said, scratching his head in disbelief.

Dante shrugged. “Dunno, she just did. So what happened after the demons caught her? Did you save her?”

Roy groaned in defeat. He braced against the wall, mop in hand. “No. I…I wasn’t there when it happened. I arrived too late. I couldn’t do a thing to save either of them poor souls,” he muttered, looking away in shame. “I let poor Sophie down. She made me promise to look after Magda when she ran away with Erik. I should’ve been there for her but I always did what she told me.”

Dante blinked. “Then how…?”

Roy palmed his face. “I don’t know for sure, Dante,” he said. “When I finally made it to their home, it was burned to cinders. It wasn’t a big place, but it would’ve taken a true inferno to reduce all that to ashes. There were barely any walls left when I got there, it was all a smoking wreck. I found half-a-dozen sand demons… their bodies had _turned to glass_ where they stood.”

Dante frowned. “And Tess?”

“I found her lying in the middle of it all, covered in soot and ash. She was in shock and her arms had more burns than I care to remember.”

Dante gulped. “Do you think… Tess did all that? When she was… what, a kid? She can’t be older than me.”

“It’s the only answer I have,” Roy said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Witchcraft works in strange ways but it’s the power she inherited from her father that worried me. Fey ‘gifts’ don’t play by any rulebook you or I might understand, let alone humans. I suspect her power has a kind of life of its own. Maybe it decided it wasn’t going to be snuffed out that day and lashed out to protect itself. There’s no way a scared little child could do much damage consciously. She’s lucky she didn’t burn alive with the lot of them.”

Dante shook his head. “No wonder she can’t remember…”

“I can’t say I agree with Magda calling her crazy, but she’s been damaged by it, for sure, more than I know how to mend,” Roy confessed. “She’s a stubborn girl, though, and as irritable and irrational as she can be at times, I’m often amazed how much she’s rallied, comparatively.”

Dante smiled wryly but it hardly reached his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve seen that. She’s fearless for someone in her shoes.”

“I don’t know how much of it is honest-to-god spine and how much is sheer spite,” Roy snorted. “She’s still not in the same boat as you, try to remember that.” 

Dante just nodded and turned back to head upstairs again. “Thanks, old man,” he muttered as he left.

He ambled to his room, tired. As he walked past Tess’ closed door, he hesitated and knocked gently. There was a brief pause and then the door clicked softly as it opened a bit. The room beyond was dark but for the faint light of a table lamp. Tess’ red head emerged from the dimness. She looked very tired and was holding a rumpled T-shirt but her eyebrows bowed up when she saw him.

“Hey,” she said tiredly. “How are you feeling? I was just going to turn in.”

“Been worse,” Dante shrugged and propped his shoulder on the wall to lean in closer. “How about you, your arm… and Roy kinda snapped at you.”

She smiled tiredly and showed him her bandaged arm, then leaned against the doorway. “He’s just worried,” she said quietly. “He's seen too many of my family killed by demons. He’s been trying too hard to keep me out of things like these. As much as I love him for it, he needs to realize I'm not made of glass and I can’t hide forever.”

Dante nodded. “Heh, I guess after tonight Roy’s gonna have to stop pretending he likes me,” he joked. “Probably thinks I’m gonna get you killed.”

Tess blinked at him, then against all odds, laughed a bit. “Nah. It’s just how Roy is. I mean, he just dragged you into the kitchen to see to your leg. He’d be a _lot_ less subtle about it if he disliked you. He said you two even sparred. To be honest I think he misses butting heads with someone other than me or Grams. Sure, he doesn’t like it that I’m getting in trouble now with you but I have a feeling he thinks it’s better than just hiding in here.”

Dante shorted softly and pushed off the wall, intent on going to his room at last. “Alright, hope you’re not pulling my leg, Twig, ‘cuz I can’t stand fibbing,” he said, heading for his door. “See ya.”

Tess poked her head of the door to smirk after him. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who came here calling himself after a breakfast cereal mascot.”

“Hey, Tony the Tiger is _cool,_ ” Dante scoffed, wandering into his room.

Dante only had the presence of mind to take a shower and then pass out in his bed for a few hours before waking up suddenly, in the dark morning hours, feeling hungry. He wished he could sleep some more but now his stomach was in command and so up he got and inspected his supplies in the little fridge. He was due another trip to a market; perhaps it was time to bug Tess about another store. With a nuke dinner in hand, he headed downstairs barefoot in just his pants and a wife-beater.

The lobby was dark and he didn’t expect anyone to be up this early in the morning but he saw light coming from the lounge and as he bound down the stairs, a smell hit his nostrils. It smelled like… baking? Yeah, that definitely smelled like something sweet, like chocolate. Curious, he went through the lounge doorway and then stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that awaited him, even dramatically dropping the food packet to the floor.  Wide-eyed and jaw slack, he just stared at Tess, who was busy… assembling a cake.

Wearing a funny apron. With _cat faces_.

She looked up from her work, cutting a large dark cake in three layers with a deadpan expression.

“What?” she snapped.

She was barefoot too, in cotton pants and an oversized shirt under the ridiculous apron. Dante had a hard time reconciling the image of her in an apron and what she was doing with what he knew of her.

He hesitated, maybe a little theatrically. “You’re… you’re…”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Baking a cake? That what you’re trying to say?” she offered.

“…Why?” he uttered.

Tess moved one of the layers on a cake stand and piped white frosting around it before spreading some syrupy, lumpy red concoction over it from a saucer.

“I couldn’t sleep. I just tossed around a bit and woke up and I felt irritated,” she explained, repeating the process with the other two layers. “I bake late at night or early in the morning when I’ve had a bad day.”

Dante had to admit that the smell from the cake was quite enticing. “But… but you’re not girly enough to bake! I mean—“ he blurted, staring as he collected his nuke-meal from the floor.

She scoffed rather viciously and eyed him rather severely while holding a spatula. “What the hell does being girly have to do with baking a frickin’ cake?” she said sharply.

Dante just shook his head and opening his meal with a kind of defeated look. “You think you know someone…” he sighed, trailing off.

She shook her head with a disbelieving smile and began to aggressively frost her cake with a white mixture. “It’s a perfectly good way to deal with things. You vent, you feel better _and_ you end up with cake.”

She glanced at the food he was putting in the microwave. “Which is better than that pile of junk food,” she added pointedly.

Dante made sure she couldn’t see his small sulk as he set the microwave; whether he liked it or not, that cake smelled so good it was driving him crazy.  How long had it been since he’d eaten a real, home-made cake? He forced away the unhappier memories. Chocolate cake. But something else too, he couldn’t quite place it…

“Is that chocolate and cherries?” he asked cautiously.

“Yep,” she confirmed, smoothing the frosting. “And _don’t_ give me that look. You find killing demons to be fun. I bake _Hate Cakes_ at ungodly hours when I need cheering up. Sometimes I even stay up till morning, watching old school horror movies. Very un-girly stuff. _”_

Dante turned and looked at her with a blank stare, then allowed his eyes to grow wide and put on a very carefully orchestrated frightened look. “Tess. You scare me. I’m getting concerned about the wellbeing of people around you. Hate Cake? Seriously?”

He peered over his shoulder at the strange odor the microwave emitted – his late-night grub didn’t smell all that great.

“Liar,” she countered, smoothing the frosting. “You want some; you’ve been looking at it like a starved man this whole time.”

Dante looked away and hid a smirk. Well, she wasn’t wrong, he had to admit the cake looked – and _smelled_ extremely tempting.

“Calling this ‘the hate cake’ was Roy’s idea, anyway. He caught me making them after Grams pissed me off and I’d mutter how much I hated her,” Tess sighed, putting the bowl into the sink.

Dante chuckled and actually sidled up to inspect the cake over her shoulder. “I don’t suppose you also bake… ‘loathing cookies’ or ‘vengeance bread’, too?” he quipped.

She chuckled. “And ‘misery muffins’ and ‘sulk brownies’, sometimes. I dunno, I felt like Hate Cake today.”

Dante swept a finger-full of frosting from the top of the cake and indulged just as he turned around to attend to the dinging microwave. By now the smell of the food was almost revolting and when he found it to still be half-frozen in the middle, he almost threw it back in angrily and asked irritably: “Hey, think you can show me another store around here? I think they’re still cleaning our first mess.”

He didn’t catch Tess grimacing at the stench of the microwave food as she smoothed the ruined frosting. “Sure. There’s another close to the clinic nearby,” she muttered, picking up a knife to cut a large slice of the cake. “Hopefully the cops won’t come a-knocking. Then again, if this stuff escalates, they’re gonna be the least of our problems.”

She put the slice on a plate and left it on the counter beside him, then went to get some for herself. Dante stared between the offered cake and his unhappy alternative. The cake was almost _calling out_ to him. He swept it up smoothly and stood against the counter, taking a testing bite. His brows bowed up a bit and he actually smiled a little. For a 'Hate Cake', it was a truckload of moist and tender chocolate love! Nevermind that he was a strawberry man at heart, this was _good_. There were cherries studded throughout the cake, tart and sweet, and there was ample cream cheese frosting all over. He hadn’t eaten something this good in ages and he wasn’t shy about making a few satisfied noises.

“You worry too much,” he said, shaking his empty fork at her.

“Someone in this house has to,” she fired back.

Dante smirked at her. “You’re getting’ soft on me, Twig.”

Tess scoffed as she covered the cake with a lid and picked up her own plate, resting on the counter across him. She seemed satisfied with the result. “Just because I think of the little things and feed you don’t mean that couldn’t kick _your_ ass if needed _,_ " she said with a little smirk.

Dante’s eyebrows bowed up as he gave her an ‘oh really?’ look while his mouth was busy processing a large bite of cake. “Pwease,” he managed around his mouthful. “Oo coowent. Oo wuv ‘e oo m’uuh!”

Tess blinked at his spectacular lack of manners and laughed. “Oh please! ‘I love you too much’? Your wishful thinking is breathtaking, Schnozz. Like that would stop me, anyway,” she said haughtily, having another bite of her cake.

He really did like her fearlessness. Of course, she was welcome to _try_ but Dante was ever so sure that she could never really make good on that challenge. He would give her all the kudos in the world for her efforts but he’d still come out on top and relish it. He even felt his demonic side nod in agreement lazily. Silly witches.

“Oh yeah? What would you do?” he dared.

“Curse your ass into next week, to start with,” she replied. “Barbecue you. I mean, you’re tough and all but slow roasting will get you eventually. You’ll never even see it coming.”

Then she paused with a bit of dark cake sitting on her fork. “Or maybe I’ll wait for you to go sleep and take you out with a knife,” she added.

“Ooh, would you cut me up and put me in your brew?” he teased.

“Damn right, I would,” she cackled. “I’m starting to think this is why you can’t stop bugging me, you _want_ to get your butt kicked!”

Dante swallowed his piece of cake and studied her ponderously. _“Is that what she thinks?”_ he thought.

Perhaps he ought to teach her a little lesson.

“Maybe, Twig…”

He pushed off the counter, deliberately taking his last bite of cake and deposited the plate by the sink as he passed it in one smooth move, locking eyes with her. He planned it very carefully, making an effort to appear predatory – which was alarmingly easy, all he had to really do was set a toe over his very personal ‘lines in the sand’ regarding the strange urges and whims that bubbled up from the depths of his being, where a demon lay curled, sleeping. He closed in, making sure to approach in such a way that he’d essentially be herding her into the corner of the counter. He put on his best ‘wolfish’ smile and locked eyes with her, keeping his eyes halfway hooded and menacing.

Well, it worked. She froze momentarily, like a deer caught in headlights and then he practically saw her confidence leap out the window and flee. She was startled enough that she did shimmy into the corner and her plate rattled violently on the counted when she put it down. She stared back bravely, like a cornered cat but it was tenuous – one little push was all that was needed to make her nervous. He watched her face get a little pink as he closed in and towered over her, bracing both hands on either side of her, effectively barring any means of escape.  

“Well, Twig?” he said wickedly. “Think you can take me on?”

She stared back, wide-eyed and tense. She shrugged defensively and her mouth hung open as she made a confused, tiny noise.

His smile widened. “No?” he said, tilting his head. “That’s too bad,” he sighed. “I really was looking forward to seeing how you’d try to beat me. Come on, take your best shot.”

He chuckled, finding her fluster entertaining. She was staring back irritably, looking like she wasn’t sure what to do, her eyes flicking back and forth nervously. Suddenly she put her hand up and pushed him back, glaring at him irritably.

“Cut it out, this isn’t funny—“ she muttered.

Dante chuckled, backing off a bit but not letting her go. “Oh but it is, Twig!” he chuckled. “You talk big but now that I’ve cornered ya, you’re not fighting back. Because you love me,” he added smugly.

She clicked her tongue at him and scowled. “You’re just being an asshole now. I wasted my cake on you.”

Dante laughed quietly. “Naw, I’m flattered, Twig! You really _do_ love me! You made the cake for me? It’s a great cake, by the way.”

“It wasn’t for _you,_ dumbass—“

He was reaching the critical point of no return now, where he would inevitably piss her off so much there’d be no recovering. But it was _too much fun_ , his demonic instincts just goaded it on even though he knew he should back off now while he still could.

“But you still gave me a slice~”

“Shut up—and back off, or I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” he chuckled.

Now he really couldn’t help himself. His late-night hunger sated, Dante now craved some fun. He had her cornered, all that was needed was a finisher and his demonic side threw the wildest, most devious idea at him. It was cruel but he grinned. He did consider the consequences… albeit briefly, and decided he wasn’t afraid.

 _“I’m a demon hunter. I’m not afraid of a little witch. Fire, curses, I don’t care. She could even slap me and I won’t care!”_ he thought and grinned.

Tess stared warily at his grin, cornered between his arms, and her own attempts to push him away were unsuccessful. He took the plunge – he leaned in and before she could react, pressed a tight-lip kiss on her lips. She froze, her eyes went really wide and she blurted a shocked little squeak. Dante found, to his surprise, that her lips were warm and… tasted of cake. He almost pushed it, his instincts almost asked for more, but before she could recover from her shock and shove him off, he pulled away and took a big step back, grinning smugly at her confusion. She was red in the face.

“Well?” Dante demanded, grinning. “Where’s that payback?”

Tess blinked a few times and then seemed to rally gradually, shaking her head in disbelief slowly.

“What?” she blurted.

Dante watched as the whole situation dawned on her and he saw her face turn angry. “You—you—” she stuttered.

She clenched her fists suddenly, unclenched and then clenched them again as if she wasn’t sure what to do. “You’re… making fun of me,” she said.

She sounded disgusted. Dante’s smug grin dropped clean off his face as he realized that she was taking his dumb little joke much harder than he thought she might. He almost wished she would’ve started screaming at him. Instead her quiet rage and disappointment and bitterness caught him by surprise. He opened his mouth to begin an apology but she flew at him like a fury as her rage at his transgression bubbled over.

“YOU BASTARD!” she snarled.

Her fist met his face with a particularly loud and somewhat crunchy sound, in a truly awesome punch that could’ve come from a pro boxer rather than a skinny teenaged girl. Dante felt his eyes widen as her fist rammed into his cheekbone, whipping his head to the side. He rolled with it, stumbling back a couple of steps and decided the best course of action was to just embrace the act whole-heartedly. He dropped on his ass and flopped on his back.

Tess cussed violently and clenched her hurt knuckles in her other hand. She whimpered briefly and cringed. Punching Dante in the face was unexpectedly painful; in her fury she’d obviously forgotten about his demonic heritage and what it did for him. Punching him would have felt like hitting wood or stone. She glared at him angrily as he lay on the floor – he did his best to play at being knocked out but Tess was not fooled.

“Cut the bullshit, you dumbass!” she shouted at him. “How _dare_ you! You think this is funny!? You just up and force that on me and then _laugh_!?” she railed. “Fuck you!!”

He lay on the floor motionless, actually rather embarrassed to get up and confront her now and he thought she hesitated for a moment… then felt her prodding him roughly with her bare foot.

“Get up!! You fucking shithead! Stop playing dead, you coward! You brought this on yourself!” she yelled.

Dante was ever so careful to make no reaction, even as his inner demon was howling in protest at being called a coward – mostly because Dante _was._ He didn’t want to deal with this stupid situation – how was he supposed to know it’d get this out of hand?!

She seemed to give up. “FINE! Be a jerk, then! You can go choke for all I care, you shithead!”

Dante nearly got up at that but he felt a sharp kick in his side that knocked him out of his dead ‘possum state with a grunt. But she was already gone when he sat up; Dante could hear her footsteps drumming up the stairs… until near the top there was a louder thud and a small groan. A stream of cursing declared her position until her door slammed shut loudly. Dante rubbed his ribs and pulled himself to his feet and dusted himself down.

He actually felt kind of bad, now. He suspected that all the camaraderie they’d created thus far would be as good as gone. His demonic side was cackling at him, and he honestly felt like he’d played himself. But dammit, it had been so tempting… 

“Damn… I fucked up real good, this time,” he muttered, sidling over to the microwave and throwing out his stinky would-be meal.

Then he rubbed his cheek awkwardly. _“But man, can she pack a punch. I can’t believe I just got decked like that by someone that puny!”_ he thought.

He was frankly kind of amazed she hadn’t just set him on fire or cursed him. He put the plates in the sink, eating the small piece of cake she’d left and turned off the lights before going back upstairs. He had little hope of sleeping now but he’d still try.

If not… he could always try to figure out a way to… apologize to Tess. Yeah, an apology might do. He’d really overstepped the line here.

 _“Congratulations, moron,”_ he told himself. _“You actually_ kissed _the Twig and you fucked up with it. Well-fucking-done.”_

To his irritation, though, he couldn’t help but think about how the kiss tasted like cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all can't tell me the little shitlord didn't deserve that one.


	9. Change of Pace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dante puts his foot in his mouth (again) and is then startled at the unexpected results.

The next morning found Dante asleep until well into the day. He’d gotten pretty battered the day before – and not just by Tess. When he dragged himself out of bed, he immediately thought of two things: Getting food and a shower, and maybe finding her so they put the dumb shit from last night behind them. The building was very chilly and from the way things looked when Dante peered out the window, it heralded another miserable day. It had snowed over the night and a thick layer or fresh snow coated the streets outside, but from the look of things, the roads were clean.

He thumped down the stairs with a microwave breakfast wrap, listening for any signs of life; the TV was silent in the lounge room and there were no sounds of Roy banging around anywhere while doing his work. Cautiously, he peered into the lounge.

Roy was in the kitchen, peeling a tangerine over the sink while some coffee percolated. He looked very thoughtful, but he was humming to himself quietly. Dante decided this was sign enough that it was safe to proceed and he stepped into the lounge.

“’Morning,” Dante ventured.

“Good morning,” Roy said flatly, not even looking up. “Or day, at any rate. There’s coffee, if you’d like.”

“Nah. Thanks though,” Dante shrugged, tossing his wrap into the microwave. “Glad to see you’re not mad anymore—“

“Sorry, but I am,” Roy said dryly, popping a piece of tangerine in his mouth and staring Dante down. “You two caused me immeasurable trouble yesterday. I had to stay out all night, retracing and reinforcing the wards with Magda.”

Dante gulped. “Sounds like a productive night—“ he tried.

“And _then_ I had to scour the area looking for any traces of Chernobog. I was worried _you’d_ try to sneak out again and go looking for him for round two,” he said pointedly, narrowing his eyes at Dante.

“Well, d’you find him?” Dante asked sheepishly.

“No. I assume that after my little surprise he’s run off to lick his wounds. I’ve no idea where, the bugger seems good at hiding. But for now, things are calm,” the djinn grunted. “And Tess left the kitchen an utter mess! I expect she was up baking. She never leaves the kitchen messy, though. Which means… something happened.”

Dante put on his best possible poker face. “Fascinating, old man. Hey, I meant to ask ya, can I swap some more of those old coins for some money? I need find somewhere to get more grub.”

Roy narrowed his eyes at the boy, eating another piece of tangerine. “You can come see me later about them and you’ll find convenience stores a plenty on the main street.”

For a moment, Dante was _sure_ that Roy and he were good, so he nabbed his warmed breakfast pastry and chowed down on it quickly. 

“But do tell me… Whatever happened to your face?” the old man asked with a savage smirk.

Dante froze. He’d done his best to ignore it this morning but he knew there was a very, very faint bruise below his eye, just on the cheekbone. Right where Tess had punched him. He’d hoped it would’ve faded by now.

“Leftover from the fight, that’s all,” he said quickly, swallowing a big bite.

“Hogwash,” Roy said dryly. “I know witch anger when I see it. There’s no way _you_ would have a bruise left over unless it was made by mystical means and I doubt Magda sucker-punched you. So what did you do to Tess this time?”

Dante felt his face get a bit warm. “Nothing, I just picked on her a little too much and she smacked me,” he said hurriedly. “So uh, how much money do you think you can spare for those coins?” he added, desperate to change the subject.

Roy’s dry expression turned into a tart smirk. He ponderously ate some more tangerine while he allowed Dante to essentially stew for a few moments.

“Very well,” he chuckled. “I suppose whatever she does to you is your own damn fault. I wasn’t sure I should let her go out this morning but she looked so upset I decided not to chance it. As for the coins, I’ll have to study each. You never did tell me where you got them.”

Dante smirked a little. “I did some schmuck a favor,” he said smugly. “Idiot was messin’ with things he shouldn’t have in his own basement. Lived like a block away from where I crashed at the time. He yanked something outta the Underworld and it tried to eat him. So I saved the day and he was too far gone to pay me,” he added, twirling his finger beside his temple. “I figured his coin collection had some value so I took that as payment.”

“How positively chivalrous of you,” Roy snorted. “Though I can’t say I blame you. Humans who meddle with things they shouldn’t are hardly in a position to judge morals. Bring ‘em over whenever you fancy, and I’ll see what we can manage.”

“Heh… thanks Roy. So the closest store is…?” Dante prompted.

Roy gave him a quick set of directions to a store across a local clinic. “And… do try to talk to Tess when you see her. I suspect you didn’t intend to make her _that_ upset.”

“S…suuuure, okay bye!” Dante said and hurried off out of the lounge and then out of the door.

Roy scoffed. He finished off his tangerine, thinking that maybe he was being _too_ kind to the twerp. But then he considered the boy’s situation and past. He sighed. He poured out two mugs of coffee, then carried them over to Magda’s quarters. The door opened on its own as he approached and he found the old woman sitting in her armchair in front of a freshly lit fireplace. Her face was drawn and severe and she puffed away on a cigarette perched on the end of a long holder, thoughtful and grim. Roy offered her one of the mugs and took a seat on the couch near her.

“Thank you Roy,” she said tiredly and took a sip. She glanced out the window. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Don’t get sarcastic with me, Magda,” Roy grumbled and drank coffee. “All this snow and cold—We both know it’s not just bad weather.”

The old witch nodded. “The wards are holding. Even if the children decided to kick the hornet’s nest. So long as he doesn’t attract them here.”

“He won’t,” Roy snapped. “Dante’s not stupid.”

Then he grimaced. “Well, except making Tess mad. All the time. Seems she punched him last night.”

Magda actually _snorted_. “Oh yes. I know all about the little farce they’re perpetuating,” she said flatly, shaking her head. “She’s so rough and crude. No delicacy. None of her mother’s grace.”

Now Roy scoffed. “Rubbish!! I don’t know what the kid did, but Sophie would’ve slapped him silly and you know it. Tess went the extra mile.”

“I’ve often complained of my insomnia,” Magda said suddenly with an entirely straight face, “and yet I find it has its uses.”

Roy blinked. “What?”

“It affords me time to observe things I’d otherwise miss,” she added serenely, drinking coffee. “I admit I had a good chuckle watching them argue in the kitchen. She’s almost childish at times.”

But Roy wasn’t having it. “What did he do?”

Magda finally frowned. “I believe she would dismiss it as ‘stealing her first kiss’. Had she simply walked away she would’ve preserved her dignity. Instead, she chose to strike at him like a child,” she sighed. “I’m ashamed that her biggest concerns are trifles like this.”

Roy blinked again and just stared, facts refusing to settle in. “…What?” 

The grand old lady was comparatively collected – if annoyed. “I take comfort in the fact that she was indignant enough to react rather than meekly accept what he did. Hopefully, she won’t take after her mother. I do not approve of these antics.”

“You don’t approve—how do you think _I_ feel?!” Roy snarled and just about spilled his coffee, shaking his fist. “I’m going to skin that little bastard…!”

Magda simply sipped some more coffee serenely.   

Meanwhile, Tess sulked by herself in a small coffee shop, over a cup of hot chocolate.

She sat by one of the windows on her own, chin perched in her hand as she idly stirred her beverage slowly, staring out. The soft ambiance of the coffee shop was soothing and somehow, it was comforting to know that there was still relative normalcy in the world. She couldn’t avoid seething about Dante’s idiocy, though. Just when she thought they were finally getting somewhere, he just had to go and do that stupid thing. She angrily took another sip from her cocoa, ignoring how hot it was.

_“Fucking idiot…”_ she thought. _“And then he wouldn’t even own up to it! To think I fucking gave him some cake.”_  

Rather absurdly, that seemed to be what bothered her most; that he’d respond to a simple friendly gesture with that kind of idiocy.

_“I mean, if he’d_ meant _it then at least I’d argue he got the wrong idea but he just…laughed. And then refused to even take responsibility. He_ didn’t _mean it, it was just a joke.”_

She took a deep breath to try and calm down and studied the street outside the window, listening to the chatter of the other people who’d sought refuge from the cold in the cozy little shop. She did notice, though, that there was a subtle tension lingering in the air. Tess could sense the tightness in the atmosphere. The usual chatter expected of coffee shops was subdued. Every now and then, people’s conversations would ‘dip’ and grow quieter. Someone would glance over their shoulder nervously. People’s gazes would glaze over and they’d frown, as if they were trying to determine what it was that made them feel weird. And then they’d flinch at the very coffee machines they were trying to operate. Tess heard someone mutter that the music was too loud.

Tess huffed. She watched people for signs of that strange tinge in the aura that she’d seen with the madman she and Dante had dispatched. She saw no overt signs but people were definitely affected. She turned away from the people and fixed her gaze at the small clinic across the street. It was partly why she’d chosen this particular coffee shop to spend some time in. She knew the little clinic well enough, having been a patient there at various times over the course of her childhood.

_“I don’t understand why I’ve seen this place in my dreams,”_ she thought. _“Something… will happen here. But I don’t know what. I hate my goddamn vague sight. If only I had more concrete answers. Dante might have had some ideas… but now I don’t even want to talk to that moron.”_

She growled quietly and drank some more cocoa, studying the street outside; few people braved the cold to wander around in the dirty snow along the street and sidewalks. From where she sat, she stared up the street and squinted a bit.

_“Speak of the devil… literally.”_

She saw his aura before he even came into view proper. Dante strolled down the street, hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking as cheerful as you like. She scowled. She doubted he had any regrets about his bullshit and she suddenly stood up, picking up her half-full mug of cocoa and moved to a table away from the window, lest the idiot see her and decide to join her just to vex her.

Contrary to her suspicions, though, Dante was far from as cheerful as he looked. By the time he got back to the boarding house, loaded with some groceries, he had made up his mind to just get it over with. Just get some time from her, say his piece and put it behind them.

It shouldn’t be too hard!

On his way to the stores he’d gotten a little peek at the store where he and Tess had encountered the madman. It really had been the epicenter of quite some activity since then, with the authorities tramping about, trying to sort through the mess that had been left behind after they’d scampered off. If anything, the authorities seemed to have left it in an even worse off state.

As Dante climbed the steps to the front door, he glanced at the cracked and faded paint of the façade. Roy often grumbled about needing to fix it up a bit, but Dante actually felt an oddly cozy feeling whenever he saw it. It wasn’t just the building itself – the people too were starting to feel… like home. It had been a long while since he last felt that about anywhere. Perhaps not quite Magda, with her awful attitude, but Roy was always quite fair and decent to him and even Tess, when she wasn’t angry and frustrated, was a welcome company.

The lobby was nice and warm when he finally got in and elbowed the door shut behind him.

Before he reached the foot of the stairs, Roy poked his head out of the basement door.

“Oh. It’s you. I thought it might’ve been Tess. Have you seen her?”

Dante stopped with one foot on the stairs. “Uh, no, not at all today. Why, she missing in action?”

He was not prepared for the glare the old man directed at him. “She’s been out most of the day and with this cold it’s rather unlike her,” he said dryly.

Dante blinked. “Huh, she’s probably just blowing some steam—“

He came out of the basement, wiping his hands on a cloth. “She had a fight with her grandmother this morning – quite bad, when Magda tried to keep her from going out. I’m quite busy at the moment with a problem in the basement, so I’d like you to go find her. With what’s been happening I don’t like her staying out too long by herself.”

Dante grimaced. “Aw come on, she’ll be fine, besides—“

“No, she’s not,” Roy grunted. “Half of her frustration today is your doing,” he said, poking Dante’s chest with an irritated finger. Then he got face to face with Dante, who almost reared back. He spoke with a low, careful lethality: “I know what you did.”

The color drained off Dante’s face and his smile slid away like a whipped dog. “What?!” he blurted.

Roy moved to his desk to pick up a set of keys from it. “I’m not the kind to play chaperone for you two brats, but mind your step, Dante. Not with me, but with her.”

“I made a tasteless joke, okay!?” he protested.

“I’m not the one who needs your excuses,” Roy said flatly. “You two are incorrigible. One day you’re trying to take on impossible demons together, the next you succeed in making a complete twit of yourself and making her furious.”

“Whatever! It’s complicated! Fine, I’ll go find her!” Dante grunted and stormed up the stairs.

_“Dammit! How’d the old goat find out?!”_ he thought, thumping up the stairs. _“No way Tess told him, she’d die of embarrassment before she did. If Magda found out I bet she’d kill me…”_

He pushed into his room and dumped his grocery in a hurry, picking up his guns and after a moment’s uncertain hesitation, the guitar case with his sword. He had a funny feeling.

_“But… seriously, where_ is _she? Fuck, I don’t know anything about what she does or where she likes going. Damn, she better be okay…”_

He stopped by the small door to her attic retreat and pressed his ear to it. Nothing. He trotted down the stairs just as Roy was going back into the basement.

“Hey, where do I start?” Dante asked him.

“Try the main street, she likes milling around some of the shops there, or any of the back streets around here,” Roy grunted. “And keep your eyes open. There’s more than demons that are dangerous.”

With that, Dante was out the door in a flash. He wondered how on earth he was going to find her since neither of them knew much about the others’ habits outside of the building – the price of being intensely private people. Judging by the wards on the attic ‘hideout’ Tess was good at staying hidden when she wanted to. He scratched his head a little bit and set off to look around. He headed back towards the main street, even peeking into some stores for a glimpse of her red hair.

The day was waning and growing darker as Dante wasted a couple of hours wandering aimlessly through the streets of the city; people shuffled away to their homes to avoid the cold. But then he felt a slow chill run down his back. Something was happening – and very likely had driven people off the streets further. Dante always suspected that even mundane humans had a sort of sixth sense, a kind of hyper-vigilant sense of self-preservation that told them to get away when demons were about.

It wasn’t that people couldn’t _see_ demons; it just so happened that for most people, this was simply too much, too _wrong_ for the way they thought the world worked and brains minds simply… filtered it out. 

Tess would undoubtedly have felt this too. He hurried along, almost ready to give up and go tell Roy he needed help – it was one thing to track demons, they were easy because they rarely cared enough to hide, but witches were a whole other deal.

Just as he wished he had some screams to follow, a sharp female shriek reached his ears from somewhere nearby and Dante perked up at its familiarity.

_“Tess!?”_ he thought and ran in its direction.

His mood was instantly forgotten. The street was empty and the streetlights were starting to flicker weakly in the strange stillness smothering the snow-strewn street. To Dante, this all felt like bad news. It spread up the road like a sheet being drawn over a corpse.

From a street to his right, Tess skidded out into the main road in a sharp turn as a very large man followed closely on her heels – but was it really a man? Dante narrowed his eyes at the behemoth that barreled out of the street after the redhead, sliding uncontrollably on the snow and slush until it collided with the building right across the T junction it had cannoned out of. Dante was forcibly reminded of the madman they’d fought in the store, towards the end when all pretense of humanity had been stripped away.

This one seemed to be even further along; it was as if a demon had burst through the seams of a smaller human suit, misshapen and somehow, bent in all the wrong places. It moved with the uncertainty of a newborn calf but the force of a pursuing bear, extricating itself from the building it had smashed into to surge after the girl. Clothes hung off the form in tatters, clinging weakly to skin that split to reveal awful scabs that almost bubbled and writhed. The formerly human head was warped with a wide, face-splitting grin – torn skin revealed teeth swollen to tusks and eyes bulged and jaundiced, spinning independently. Dante scowled to see that annoying, grinning mouth splitting his chest again, a mockery that felt directed straight at him, even as the bloated eye under it was fixed on the redhead.

It breathed with a ragged, wretched pitch, a low cackle underscoring every grunt from its swollen neck. Muscles strained under the skin as though about to snap, veins throbbing angrily beneath. It towered over the slender witch who seemed… inconvenienced rather than afraid. A series of burns across the demonic madman indicated the girl had put up quite a fight.

Dante’s eyes narrowed; this wasn’t good. It was getting dark but it was still deeply concerning to see a nearly fully-fledged demonic entity stalk about so boldly in the open. No wonder the streets were empty; people would’ve felt this coming and squirreled themselves away out of instinct.

He gritted his teeth as he closed in, just as the madman almost reached her, warped and swollen hand about to swipe her when she looked away in her haste to put distance between herself and it.

He drew his guns quickly, firing several rounds at it. “Hey! Pick on someone your own size, fatass!”

The shots put a stop to the madman’s course as it whipped back and seemed to shake the shots off, even as blood streamed off its injuries. It stumbled uncertainly and looked around, as if trying to grasp its bearings. Tess came to a stop at last, dropping automatically into a tense, defensive stance. When her gaze met Dante’s, momentarily she looked relieved but then it melted away into irritation.

“And now _you’re_ here too. What _is_ it with demons today?” she grumbled.

Evidently, she was still angry at him. Dante walked up to her, firing a couple more shots at the madman as he did, driving it back further. He was not very happy about her greeting.

“You’re welcome for saving your life. I know I’m your hero! No, it was nothing, really!” he fired back, dripping with sarcasm. “Where the hell have you been? Roy’s treating me like your damn sitter.”

Before the demon had any time to recover, Tess had rallied and regained composure, so she drove it further back with some bolts of flame, making it roar in pain, a mixture of human anguish and demonic indignation.

“Ooh, I’m touched! You both think I’m some feeble little damsel in distress!” she snapped. “Or entertainment!”

Something in Dante snapped a little bit, making his eyebrow twitch mightily, and he felt _spiteful._ Spiteful beyond belief, in fact, like he never had been before. Surely, said an ugly little voice in the back of his head, she owed him _some_ gratitude for coming to her rescue! Not her everlasting attitude! Would she never learn her place? She was just a silly little girl, a foolish little witch who could barely fire off a spell without it sputtering and coughing. How dare she talk to him like that!

He holstered his guns with an angry grunt and whipped around to walk away. “Fine then! Your problem!”  

Even as he did, he tried to master himself again. On one hand he waited for her to buckle and ask for him to stay – she’d have to, this was a demon; on the other hand, he angrily told himself that it was just a stupid little possessed human, if she had trouble with that, then she really wasn’t worth a dime as a witch anyway—

_“What the hell am I thinking!?”_ something in him screamed.

The realization poured over him like cold water. He glanced back just to see the demonic madman snarl irritably and bat the flames away with a wide sweep of the arm. It shook itself down and seemed to rally, forcing the witch to backpedal in a hurry, ducking under the arm.

“RuNNIng awAY, bOY?” the demon bellowed. “RRRun along THEN! I’ll Have fUN with YOUR… litTLE _GirLFRIEnd!_ ”

Both teenagers froze. Tess even uttered a hearty expression of her sentiments on the topic, in a manner not common to teenaged girls, even foul-mouthed ones. Dante almost felt his face and ears burn against the cold air and every drop of spite he felt was quashed under the rightful indignation of an embarrassed teenaged boy. He whirled around and hurriedly stomped back into the fray.

“She’s not my _girlfriend_!” Dante snarled. “She seems more like _your_ type, buckethead!” Then he glared at Tess. “Ya see what you do, Twig? People get the wrong idea!”

Tess just yelled back at him, even stamping her foot on the ground. “Like hell I did!!” she shouted, storming up to him. “I don’t know what kind of moron would think I’m your girlfriend!! I’d sooner have kissed this shithead than you, you jerk!”

The demonic madman seemed… perplexed by the sudden turn of events. It hesitated for a long moment, just staring from one teenager to the other as they quibbled about trivialities and outright _ignored_ it.

Dante got in her face; he felt like picking a fight with her more than the demon. After all, _she_ irritated him more – and to think he was prepared to apologize to her!

“Oh sure! Because you can’t take a stupid joke, can you!?” he snapped, well-aware of his own arrogance. “You got so flustered because you hate me so much! Pu~lease, if I hadn’t been kidding, you’d have loved it! That’s the only reason you got mad!”

“You were _making fun of me_! Of course I’m fucking angry!” she snarled. “You just about assaulted me! That—that was my _first kiss_!! And you fucked it up by forcing it on me and then laughing about it! And you _knew_ it! You didn’t even wanna acknowledge it, just lying on the floor and playing ‘possum, you selfish shit!”

Any fear the demon and the fact that she was screaming at a half-demon who was pretty angry had evaporated before her boiling anger and contempt.

Dante’s glower got worse. “Yeah, I’m such a selfish bastard that I don’t care enough to come and find your sorry little ass and help you!” he said, jabbing at thumb towards the bewildered demon, still staring back and forth between them.   

The demonic madman finally snapped out of its confusion and advanced towards the teenagers menacingly, huge hands contorting further as the finger joints swelled and expanded, pushing through the flesh into monstrous, sharp spurs. Without even aiming properly, Dante drew Ebony and shot out the demon’s eye. He was still glaring at the girl.

“You _humiliated_ me!” she argued back. “How’s that caring – you’ve got the emotional range of a pineapple!” she shouted to be heard over the demon, flailing in pain with a large hole where its eye had once been.

“Wait your turn!” Dante barked at the demon. “ _I_ humiliated you? You did a pretty good job of that yourself the way you acted—“

Tess further drove the demon back by creating a burst of fire under its feet, knocking it onto its back. “How else was I supposed to act?! You stood there and grinned like a fucking idiot and joked—“

“Because it was funny!” Dante retorted. “You were going on and on about how you could kick my ass and yet when I spooked you a bit you just freaked out! Why’s that? Maybe you’ve really got a thing for me?” he challenged, backstepping towards the demon and shrugging with his arms out.

Tess just glared back at him with such ferocity that if looks could kill, Dante felt he’d be a stain on the pavement.

“Oh, really?! After all the shit you’ve done, _I’ve_ got a thing for you!?” she snapped. “After you _scared_ me and then used me to get a fucking cheap laugh!” she added, approaching the demon from the other side as well.

The demon was pulling itself off the ground when Dante’s foot impacted its swollen neck and slammed it back into the ground angrily before the boy placed his gun point-blank against the demon’s head, without ever taking his gaze off his preferred ‘opponent’.

“And you punched me! Yet here I am, still helping you!” he snapped, firing a bullet straight into the demon’s head, resulting in the bitter smell of burnt demon hide.

“But you don’t care how I _felt_ about what you did!” she fired back. “I took it seriously and you _laughed!_ Then you lay on the floor and pretended not to hear me! Think about that for a second!”

Dante growled momentarily. “Look—“

The demon, which had lain motionless since the shot, sprang to life with a loud groan, seizing Dante’s leg with his massive hand suddenly.

“Oh shut up!” Tess snapped at it and a blast of fire scorched the demon's face and arm with an angry sizzling sound. “Can't you see we're talking!?”

It groaned loudly in response and its grip on Dante’s leg loosened. He shook his leg free and fired a few more rounds in its head, making the body flop violently before it grew still. Then he whirled back around towards her.

“Look, I didn’t think you were gonna _punch me out_ , okay!? I thought you might get a little pissed, and _that’s_ funny, but you looked like you were freaking out, so I cracked a little joke. And you had a full-blown meltdown!”

“Because it _wasn’t funny_ from where I was standing!” Tess snapped. “If you were so concerned, you would’ve apologized!”

“Maybe I got nervous, genius!” he bellowed. “You were ready to burn the house down over the whole thing, I didn’t wanna deal with you until you calmed down!”

“And we come back to it being your fault! If you hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be pissed!” she spat, then glanced at the demon. “It’s dead, right?”

“I don’t care, I’m not done with you, Little Miss Volatile,” he growled, stepping over the beast to get in her face, irritated that she showed no sign of backing down. “I was _honestly_ going to apologize for freaking you out but now with all this shit I’m far less inclined,” he snapped. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here before someone catches us.”

Immediately he walked past her angrily and started heading back for the boarding house, listening to her footsteps on the frozen ground as she followed with the same irritated pace. A fine pair they were. A few moments later, something wet and cold hit him in the back of the head with a _splat_. He whipped around, realizing it was a snowball and watched her dust her hands of snow.

“The hell was that for?!” he snapped. “What are you, three?!”

“No, that’s you,” she countered, stomping over and then past him. “That’s for ruining my first kiss – otherwise I might chuck fire at you. I can’t believe that for a second there I thought you just had the wrong idea. I would’ve forgiven _that_.”

He opened his mouth but then shut it. He felt his face warm up and that irritated him. She paced ahead quickly and he had a suspicion it might’ve been because her face was pink.

“What if I _had_ the wrong idea and I got nervous when you freaked?” he blurted as he caught up.

“Well then you’re a shitty kisser,” she muttered, looking away.

“Good, ‘cuz you fucking ruined mine, too,” he said before he could stop himself.

She said nothing but she stopped walking for a long moment and Dante wished the earth beneath his feet would open up and swallow him whole.

“Dante, for pity’s sake—“ she said.

He breathed out, almost feeling defeated under the weight of doing what was… well, _right_ , against what his instincts screamed that they wanted – demons don’t apologize, they owe nothing to nobody! They certainly don’t owe anything to tiny little witches!! Besides, she’d all but said that if he hadn’t made fun of her, maybe…

He suddenly had the urge to grab some snowballs too and pelt her with them just to get a point across, whatever that might be.

“Look I’m… sorry about freaking you out and laughing about the… the thing,” he said quietly instead. “I was just clowning around. But I was right.”

She nearly sputtered. “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t do anything – you _can’t_. You’re… you’re human, okay? You don’t… you don’t get what it’s like. And you don’t get how dangerous demons get. You talk big, Twig, and you’ve got some aces up your sleeve but it’s just not enough,” he said stubbornly. “You said it yourself. You’re not good enough yet—“

“Oh my shit, will you shut up?” she snapped.

Tess stormed past him, walking away towards the boarding house with an angry staccato of footsteps. “You’ve fucking swallowed whatever bullshit Grams and Roy have fed you, haven’t you?” she growled. “You’re just like them now, fully prepared to tell me what a shit witch I am, who can’t do anything. Fan-fucking-tastic!”

“You can’t argue that I’m right!” Dante muttered angrily and followed her, again outpacing her just because he was taller – there, another point he was right about; she was too small to really be able to stand up to him, let alone real demons.

“Fuck off,” she snarled.

They angrily ignored each other all the way back to the building, just to find Roy in the lobby, heading for the basement with a mop. Dante preempted him with a bone-dry greeting.

“We’re back.”

Roy frowned at both. “Welcome back, did you—“

“I just got carried away at the bookstore, I was coming back when he found me,” Tess said with the kind of cool that puts polar bears at ease.

Roy looked a bit taken aback by her attitude as he stopped mid-step and studied her moody look. “Well… alright,” he said. “Thank you, Dante.”

“Sure,” Dante muttered, deciding not to open his mouth about what had happened.

Roy headed for the basement, looking a bit puzzled. Dante might’ve been angry now, but he was never going to be a rat about something like this. It’d just make Roy and Magda paranoid and, as irritated as he was at Tess, he would never consign her to potentially get _really_ grounded. By silent and mysterious agreement they both wandered into the kitchen, where Dante got himself a soda to crack open and Tess busied herself with making tea. They both seemed less cross, but not entirely calm.

“Thanks for not telling,” she said in a small voice.

Dante shrugged and grunted non-committedly, cracking open the soda and taking a long drink, staring out the window. He kept his back at her, trying to work out who exactly he was angry at, himself or her. He was angry she hadn’t appreciated his help, that he’d ruined both their first kisses for a dumb joke… and then putting his foot in his mouth—

No, not that. He was _right_ about that, dammit. She had no right being so feisty when she was just human and… and not even a decent witch. It simply didn’t compute with his demonic instincts and the way the world worked. The way he _felt_ the world worked. Witches should be afraid. But she just wasn’t. It almost… bothered him. He stole a glance at her over his shoulder.

She wouldn’t look at him, but he could just feel how angry she was. She was practically gritting her teeth and banging the utensils she was using for her tea with more force than needed. Finally, she threw a spoon into the nearby sink with a frustrated grunt, ignoring the boiling pot for her tea.

“Ugh, this is stupid. This whole damn situation,” she growled. “I feel like I’m the only one who gives a fuck and that I’m childish for thinking I can do anything. Grams keeps calling me crazy – maybe I am.”

Dante turned around. “Damn right – I told you, Twig, you’re far, _far_ out of your depth,” he said irritably. “Nevermind your granny, it’s because you’re human, plain and simple. And you need to get it into your head. Whatever you’ve seen so far is just the tip of the iceberg. Thinking you can get mixed into that _is_ crazy. Just like thinking you can take me on.”

Tess turned and stared, eyes wide and her face slowly twisted into an angry glare. When she spoke, her voice dripped bitterness and resent.

“That’s what you think of me? That I’m crazy!?” she barked.

“Or just stupid!” he snapped back. “You think you’re being brave but I honestly just think you’re nuts! You _know better!”_

Her voice cracked as she screamed back at him. “How dare you! Is that what bothers you? That I’m not afraid of _you_? Well, tough shit! Because I’m not!”

“Maybe you _should_ be!” he grunted. “You don’t know anything about me or what I can do and yet you keep on pissing me off—“

“Are you threatening me?” Tess snapped with a sudden drop of her volume, from angry screeching to quiet lethality.

“What if I am?” Dante snapped back before he could stop himself and made another forceful advance towards her. “I’m a demon after all – I mean, it’s the same thing, isn’t it? There’s no point hiding.”

She stood her ground this time, glaring up at him until his face was centimeters from hers but _still_ she wouldn’t back down. “Believe me, you have no idea, _little girl_ , what I could do and that’s a fact. Witch or not, you’re still a small human who’s just ripe to get gobbled up.”

“That’s bullshit!”

Dante flinched back suddenly, staring at her. She had stamped her foot and had never once allowed her gaze to waver from locking right with his. Her green eyes were _blazing._

“You think _you’re_ a demon? Don’t make me laugh!” Tess snapped. “You don’t even _want_ to be a demon. You’re still human so you’re better than that. If you wanted me to be scared of you, you’ll have to try harder, but you know what? You won’t.”

Dante took a tentative step backwards and said nothing. He suddenly felt bad for speaking to her in this way and a small seed of… well, admiration for her refusal to bow down.

“Tess—“

“Stop. Yeah, you’re right, I’m not like you. But at the same time, I kind of am and you better remember that,” she said coldly. “You _can’t_ scare me. And you can’t… you can’t make me sit this out. You _can’t_ treat me like an ignorant fool. Whether you like it or not.”

Dante gulped faintly. He was… quite confused, now. Annoyed and regretful and indignant and yet strangely filled with admiration.

“You… really believe that,” he uttered.

She nodded with utter confidence. “Completely.”

He breathed out. It was crazy. She believed in him. She believed in him when _he_ wouldn’t believe in him. How? And why would she? All that talk about witches and demons and how the former were just prey for the latter and she didn’t care?!

“I’m _not_ weak,” she said stubbornly. “And I’m not… I’m not going to let anyone make me feel weak, not even you. Do you understand?!”

He just nodded.

She seemed on the verge of either crying or falling over in exhaustion so instead she suddenly motioned to step around him and flee out of the lounge. He stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Wait—look. I’m… I’m sorry about the… the thing,” he muttered. “For real, this time.”

She looked up at him, her creased brows smoothing slowly. “Okay,” she nodded, but then scowled a little, again. “I’m not sorry for punching you, though.”

He tried to fight it, but a chuckle creaked out of his throat. “That’s fair, I guess.”

She slipped out of his hold and stalked out of the lounge and he heard her footsteps on the stairs before her door thudded shut. He finally breathed out and blinked at himself. Had this entire exchange been really real? It must have because his chest felt strange, like something was hammering against it.

He decided to retreat to his room to try and sort out what he was feeling. He was somewhat startled by Roy, in cat form, sitting by the foot of the stairs. The two of them exchanged a long look but neither said anything, until Dante hurried up the stairs to avoid the very knowing gaze of the cat.

 


	10. Random Acts of Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where an outing takes a rather violent turn.

Dante spent the rest of that evening mostly in his room, ruminating over what had happened and what Tess had thrown in his face. It irritated him but at the same time, she had a point. He was partly human, he mostly lived as a human… But he never quite felt like it was equal to his demon half. But she did. And she was so fearless. He’d eventually fallen asleep in his darn clothes and for a change, his sleep was largely dreamless.

The next day, he went out, still trying to sort through his thoughts and exploring the city. He found some Bloodgoyles, loitering near what turned out to be a riot outside a police department. The noise from the angry crowd and the indignant cops covered the sounds of his dispatching the flying scum neatly. He swung by the park to see if Chernobog had returned, but no joy.

He did make an interesting observation, though. The park was more or less right in the middle of where a lot of the unrest in the city was happening. He heard rumors of violent acts on the streets, of over-filled holding cells in the police departments, of frequent uses of excess force and unexpected breaks of sanity. He passed by people rambling about violent nonsense in the street. A woman shot another woman to death over a parking spot. He saw no concrete evidence of demons growing out of people but he felt _something_ hanging over the city itself.

When he’d been poking around an old industrial neighborhood, something caught his attention; a tugging feeling at the edges of his consciousness, like his inner demon pricking its ears at an intriguing sound. He found what looked like a hobo, loitering over the ravaged body of another unfortunate squatter – their apparently shared camp was wrecked. The man still looked relatively human when Dante found him, but the moment he caught sight of the teenager, the poor man’s underlying demonic nature boiled over like a bursting pustule, forcing Dante to put him down before he could really prod the creature to try and figure it out.

It left him with the lingering impression that he’d made something angry.

After that encounter, Dante found his way back to the boarding house around the evening and stretched just as the front door swung shut in his wake, then hefted the guitar case higher over his shoulder. He briefly waved at Roy, making his way to the stairs. Roy looked up from the desk where he was writing.

“There you are,” he said kindly. “All’s well, I take it?”

Dante smiled tiredly. “Yeah, more or less. Just Bloodgoyles, another lunatic and a riot. And that one wasn’t even my fault,” he quipped, making the older man scoff.

“And I see no curses on you, still. Seems there’s been no retaliation yet,” Roy added.

Dante’s smile turned a bit tart and he shrugged, then went up the stairs. Tess had avoided him since their terse talk and awkward mending of fences, staying in her room. He hadn’t even seen her properly, just caught a flash of red vanishing into the door leading to Magda’s house that morning.

He passed by the redhead’s door and pounded his fist on it, without stopping. He wanted to annoy her – it seemed the surest way to get her to talk to him after yesterday. He went to shower and change into clean clothes and leave his guns and sword in his room. When he was done he passed by her door again, knocking obnoxiously for a second time and carrying on down the stairs to catch Roy again.

“So… seen Tess at all today?” he asked.

Roy looked up over his glasses. “Hmm… you know, she’s been awfully secretive since yesterday. She must be getting better at her misdirection wards, because she’s right behind you.”

Dante whipped right around as Roy smirked, just to come face to face with Tess, who apparently came in from the lounge. She was frowning at him.

“Stop banging on my door, or I’ll break it over your head,” she said dryly.

 _“Ooh, that’s a look,”_ Dante thought, wincing at her deadpan expression – he was forcibly reminded of the first day he showed up there.

He very nearly smirked at her shirt, though, a dark purple thing with a rather dramatic image of a mutilated heart, clumsily sewn together, with a knife stuck in it, lying in a puddle of blood with the motto ‘I Break Hearts’ proudly flying over it. She did look very ‘grown up’ suddenly, with her hair clipped up and her stony expression.

Dante feigned a wince and a lop-sided smile. “Hey, I’m not dead yet!” he greeted her. “Guess you’re not completely pissed at me, then.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, quirking an eyebrow and smirking. “I’m _still_ mad at you but I can’t really hold a grudge at the fact that you’re stupid, you can’t help that,” she said flatly and Dante flinched.

Roy chuckled. “Well well, first word of the day between you and it’s insults. Typical!” he said. “Don’t you look like an angry vixen. Careful, son, she looks ready to bite your head off.”

Dante shrugged. “I don’t know, can she even _reach_ my head?” he said, a wide, shit-eating grin spreading on his face as he turned to look at her, just to annoy her.

Tess just rolled her eyes while Roy hooted as he stood up and made for the basement. “Well, I suppose you two have things to talk about. Run along and try not to get killed,” he said over his shoulder. “Or kill each other!”

Dante shrugged and after frowning at Roy, turned back around to Tess. “So we’re gonna do this charade for long? What’s Roy talkin’ about, anyway?”

“Well every time we step out of the front door, something bad happens,” she said dryly but then let out a put-upon sigh. “You know what, fuck it. Wanna go get pizza? I can’t be bothered to cook today.”

Dante’s eyebrows hitched upwards and his stomach finally got his attention enough to remind him that he was hungry. Pizza. The magic word. He nodded with an eagerness better suited to a small dog that elicited a snort from her.

“Hey, ain’t our fault that the whole town’s fucked up,” he said, shrugging. “What’s he take us for, babies?”

“He’s not an idiot, Dante,” Tess sighed, grabbing her black pea coat from the lounge. “He knows that no matter how much he growls or Grams glares, we’re not gonna sit tight like good little kids. Frankly, I’m amazed he lets me go out after what happened at the park.”

“Maybe he follows us around. Ya know, cat mode,” Dante quipped.

“I would’ve sensed him if he had,” she said, shaking her head.

“Huh, you can? He doesn’t know how to get around your freaky radar?” he asked, tilting his head.

He was quietly irritated that he _still_ couldn’t sense the old man.

“He’s _tried_. Been trying since I was 10 and he still can’t fool me. Where are you going?” she asked, watching him turn to the stairs suddenly.

“Just getting some insurance,” he said and trotted upstairs and snatched his guns. “So, where are you taking me, oh evil witch?” he asked with a smirk, coming back down with Ebony and Ivory safely tucked away under his coat. In a rare gesture of courtesy, Dante even held the door open for her.

She shook her head at him. “There’s a pizza joint near here that’s actually pretty decent.”

Dante swung the door closed behind them and marched out after her. “Have they got good pizza? That’s all I care about.”

His stomach made an angry growl and Dante could’ve sworn he heard it say ‘Feed me!’

“I’m not surprised,” she sighed and just walked on.

There was quite a bit of snow left on the sidewalks, mushed and dirty from being trod upon and small piles rose dotted the side of the road where cars and snowplows had pushed it aside to clear the road. It crunched under their feet.

Dante gave her a sidelong look and pursed his lips. “Alright,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Is there something _else_ wrong now?”

She scoffed without stopping or looking over. “Must there be something wrong? Can’t I just, you know, not want to talk to you much?”

“No. If you’re not talking, something’s wrong. Are you still pissed at me?” he asked, stopping and refusing to move until she spilled the beans.

Tess sighed, stopped and turned around. She idly twirled some hair around her finger. “Yes. I mean, what’d you expect, that it’d just go away like that?” she countered. “Why are you so interested, anyway?” she added pointedly.

Somehow that look she gave him when she said that caught Dante off guard and he sort of went on the defensive, unsure why. “I don’t want to get punched again,” he lied. “Better safe than sorry.”

Tess breathed out and her shoulders drooped. “Eh… it’s nothing, really. The usual. Grams just went off on me, again. We can keep bullshitting all we want but she knows what we’re getting up to,” she said, staring across the street. “Heh, she says you’re an awful influence on me and for once… I kinda agree.”

Dante scoffed. “Oh I dunno about that, Twig, I’ve known nothing but trouble since I came here!”

“You _like_ trouble, don’t pretend it bothers you,” she said dryly. “Anyway, I don’t like digging this up again, but wanted to ask you something: Besides the whole ‘I thought it would be funny’ shit, why the fuck _did_ you kiss me?”

Dante almost tripped over his own feet because he tried to stop and yet keep walking casually at the same time. Somehow. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Why’d you have to bring that up again?”

She rolled her eyes and then jerked her hands upwards in a gesture of despair. “Because it’s _weird_! You don’t just _kiss_ people even if it’s funny! I need to know for some goddamn peace of mind.”

Dante awkwardly bit his lip, a little unsure what to say here without wildly humiliating himself. A dozen smart-ass quips ran through his head and all ran up against a big blaring ‘ABORT’ command. He was tempted to confess the absurd truth at the root of it but his face felt warm and he had to look away to blatantly lie. “Well it’s not because of your looks! You need to work on your temper to—“

Tess just sighed, rolling her eyes. She shook her head, looking down. “Okay, nevermind. I didn’t expect a straight answer anyway. You really don't know how to talk to a girl,” she concluded, turning back around and walked down the street.

Dante hastened to keep up – it was easy, he had longer legs. “Hey, I'm not trying to impress you,” he retorted snidely. Trying to rally, he attempted to discompose her. “I mean, you already love me.”

He smiled wide, confident that he was getting under her skin. His stomach gave another command for food and he cringed. Tess’ lips twitched a little, but she kept walking. And then Tess countered his attempt.

“Now I wonder, is that maybe wishful thinking and that dumb kiss was you trying to say _you_ love me too?” she said, putting her hands in her pockets.

Dante schooled his face into a wicked smile. Throw his words back at him? “I never said I loved you, Twig! I was just picking on you and we already know how that went. You’re the one who gave me cake in the first place!” he said, jabbing his finger at her.

Tess chuckled. “I only gave you cake to be nice, Schnozz,” she teased. “If you took it the wrong way, it’s not my fault.”

Dante looked away and before he could stop himself, muttered: “It’s a shame you don’t look as good as you bake.”

That got a loud laugh out of her, even as she walked. “Okay, so what’s the Dante ideal, then? What gets your jimmies rustled, Schnozz?” she challenged. “Let me guess, Playboy bunnies. You look the type.”

Dante grimaced at her sourly. She was _teasing him._ He wanted to shut her up with a witty rejoinder but instead his teenaged indignation grabbed the wheel. “Heck no, I don’t care for bunnies,” he said with a grimace. “Me, I like girls with a nice, natural figure. Curves aren’t a problem but I won’t say no to a nice butt!” he said pointedly, outlining an imaginary woman’s figure emphatically.

As he’d hoped, Tess’ face turned a bit pink and she looked away. “Wow! No comment there,” she chuckled. “Too bad I’m too thin for that, huh?”

Dante shrugged, smirking. “Pity for _you,_ maybe! Plenty of fish in the sea, Twig~” he teased. “’Sides, where do you think I go when I’m not around the house?” he asked cheekily, knotting his fingers together behind his head.

He was pushing it, for sure.

Tess instead laughed and rolled her eyes, looking just a little put off. She seemed about to retort when suddenly her smile shrank away and her gaze fixed on something behind Dante. He caught her look and glanced over his shoulder.

In the street behind them there was a group of people, about a dozen, standing in the gloom, all different builds and sizes. They were all dressed in dark clothes and Dante could see they were all wearing hoods over their heads – from hoodies, jackets, overcoats. Though individual across the board they still matched in a bizarre kind of ‘uniform’. They just stood there for a long moment, as though studying the pair and then suddenly started to walk towards the pair, slow and deliberate.

Dante narrowed his eyes; these were humans, plain and simple. He could feel it and even smell it in the air. Just humans. He shrugged and without thinking about it, put his arm over Tess’ shoulders and motioned to walk on.

“C’mon, slowpoke,” he said quietly.

Strangely, Tess did not fight his gesture and even shrank against him a bit. “I think it’s a gang,” she muttered. “I thought they stuck to downtown…”

She sounded a little frightened. 

Dante scowled as a bunch of similarly-dressed people emerged from an alley across the street and advanced towards them. Ahead of them, another group turned into the street, effectively hemming them in and giving them just one way to move: cutting through an open-air parking lot. They were being herded into it.

“The fuck do they want?” he muttered, hesitating just for a moment.

“Remember how we’ve discussed that people in the city are turning crazy? I heard that some gang or other has been roaming the streets and randomly assaulting people – they beat someone to death last week,” she muttered quickly. “Dante, what if it’s these guys and we’re being targeted—“

His grip on her shoulder tightened a bit and without thinking about it, he pulled her closer, still staring down the ever-closing mob. They were on their own, there was nobody else on the street to witness this and the windows of every building around them were dark.

“Calm down,” he said. “We fought off demons; some humans will be a piece of cake. I’m sure you can scare ‘em with a curse or two,” he added, reaching into his coat for one of his guns. He glanced down at her with a somewhat wicked smile. “Unless you’re _scared_?”

Tess hissed and grabbed at his arm. “I’m not scared—are you shitting me!? Put the gun away, you can’t _kill_ them! They’re—they’re just people!”

He squirmed her hand off his arm, but acquiesced with a grunt as they retreated towards the parking lot, just as the gang intended. Sure, he wasn’t ever planning on _killing_ any of these clowns but that didn’t mean he couldn’t _use_ his guns any other way. The parking lot was mostly deserted, bar a few old cars and the two of them made a beeline for the open gate in the chain link fence opposite the one they’d entered through. The group behind them had now merged, trudging ominously after them at a faster pace. Just before the pair reached the gate, a couple of figures darted out from the nearby street and closed off the escape route by pulling the gate shut.

This forced Dante and Tess to a halt and he finally got a good look at their stalkers. Human, all of them, a mish-mash of young people, from as young as thirteen or fourteen to what looked like mid-twenties and all of them equally grim and dressed in dark clothes. The group closed in on them to the tune of crunching snow and stopped a few dozen feet away from them. Suddenly one of their ranks stepped ahead of the rest and tugged his hood back. It was a young man with dyed blond hair and a smug grin. He was barely taller than Tess but Dante didn’t think he was younger than nineteen.

“Well, well, look who it is: the Wicked Bitch of the West!” he chuckled airily. “I thought it might be you. Long time no see.”

He was staring right at Tess and grinned broadly; while she seemed to acknowledge him, her expression was something you’d expect her to direct at a vermin.

“Dean,” she said dryly. “Hasn’t been long enough. I should’ve recognized the stench from a mile away.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed as this guy neared. He wouldn’t disagree on the stench but it wasn’t the simple odor of a slovenly teenager or even the stench of a weed smoker. He could smell _blood_ , faintly but distinctly present, drying somewhere on his clothes. It put the half-demon on edge and he thought that perhaps Tess had a point in being cautious. He narrowed his eyes at him as he called Tess that cruel moniker.

_“Did he really just call my girl a bitch?”_

The thought had rolled into his head completely unbidden and he almost twitched. He had the absurd but overwhelming desire to draw his gun and blow this idiot’s head to pieces for provoking such a weird thought. He practically felt his demonic side begging him to do it. He mentally shook his head at himself.

 _“Get it together!”_ he ordered himself. _“What the hell are you thinking? Your girl? Since when!? Stop dicking around and don’t stoop to their level, you moron!”_

Dean appeared oblivious to Dante’s growing scowl or Tess’ disdain and maintained his smug and taunting smirk. Evidently, the presence of his accompanying mob provided him with ample confidence.

“Yeah, what’s it been, two years?” Dean said pointedly. “Your old uncle kicked me out just because we were having some fun.”

Tess glared. “Oh, you mean how you tried to turn the building into your personal whorehouse?” she replied pointedly. “All I remember is too many call-girls, too much booze and too much bullshit.”

Dante’s lips twitched a bit as he resisted a smirk, keeping his eyes on Dean. His smirk seemed to shrink a little.

“Still a cocky little bitch, ain’tcha?” Dean said and then looked at Dante, eyeing him up and down. “So what’s that make you, the boyfriend? Didn’t think you were into _twinks,_ Tess. Or is he just another tenant in that dump of yours?”

Evidently this was all high comedy for the mob as snickers, whoops and a ‘decorative’ adjective or called out loud successfully hid the unexpectedly loud grinding noise that Dante’s teeth made as he clenched his jaw.

 _“Twink?!”_ he thought angrily.

Tess’ anger seemed to overtake her initial fear. “Oh please, you brought it all yourself and if you weren’t so high all the time you’d have realized, you moron. You think you’re some big man just because you’ve got a bunch of _sheep_ to do what you say – because people with higher brain functions won’t.”

A few taunting whistles and cackles from the mob made the girl tense against Dante’s arm. Dean just chuckled, looking away with a hard, sinister glint in his eye.

“Oh man, Tess. You always had a mouth on ya,” he chuckled. “I got news for you, princess: You’re in my turf now. You should be nicer to me.”

He underscored that veiled threat by hooking his thumbs in his belt suggestively.

Dante didn’t quite expect her reaction. “ _Oooh,_ I’m scared,” she snapped sarcastically. “You must be thanking your lucky stars, Dean, that you have a mob here to protect you because I don’t think you could’ve handled me alone if you tried.”

She actually got right in his face and Dante was alarmed to find that the mob suddenly stirred and mutterings from it urged him to strike back. Dante finally had enough and before this could escalate, he pulled her back gently and stepped forward, getting between her and the irritating thug, looking down at him coldly.

“That’s enough. Pisses me off when someone’s got a bigger mouth than me,” he said dryly.

He found the idea of the shorter Dean trying to intimidate him with a glare to be funny and smirked. The thug looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. His discomfort at Dante’s taller stature was short-lived and he stepped up to look him in the eye.

“ _Ooh_ , got ourselves a hero here,” he sneered as his group snickered again. “Look, Shining Armor, you’re either stupid or you got balls. Tell you what, you can take a nice long walk or you can get messed up – I mean if you’re gonna, at least get messed up for a chick that’s worth it.”

Dante did not budge and just carried on smirking. “You know, if you had the stones to take me on, you wouldn’t even bother with the threats,” he chuckled. “Twig’s right, you’re just a lowlife. So why not have a crack at the ‘hero’, huh?”

Tess, who had remained quiet, probably out of surprise, hissed at him. “Don’t provoke him—“

The entire mob suddenly closed in on them, as though Dean had made some subtle sign, and fell upon them like hungry wolves. Dean had stuffed his hand in his hoodie’s pocket and when he pulled it out, he was donning a heavy-looking knuckle-duster which he rammed straight into Dante’s face. The rest of the bunch closed in, allowing no escape.

Dante’s head snapped back as he failed to dodge or parry the hit from sheer surprise. The next thing he knew, he was the subject of some of the most violent physical assaults he’d ever seen humans commit and as he rallied, he saw a few stones, bottles and even knives making appearances from pockets and coats.

He dodged another punch aimed for his jaw and in the instant it took him to get out of that assault he saw Tess kick a guy in the jewels before she got knocked into the ground by a kick across her back from another guy. She hit the snowy ground hard and then the group of people attacking her closed in around her. Dante grit his teeth, parried another punch thrown by Dean and then knocked the dumbass backwards with a punch to the chest. He dodged around a thug and shoved his way towards her.

His already roused anger went into a boiling point and he snatched one of the gang members by the back of the shirt and unceremoniously sent him head first through the rear window of a car. He found one of the thugs keeping Tess pressed down with his knee on her chest and grinding her head into the dirty snow with his hand. Another person – a girl, no less – was preparing to kick her again. Tess was struggling against her captor but she was quite outnumbered.

Dante pulled his fist back and sent the woman sprawling to the ground in one blow. The man holding Tess down was so surprised that the redhead took her chance, snatched a rock and smashed it into the side of his head and when he reeled back from the blow, she proceeded to kick him, swearing. Dante punched another man to the ground and then did only thing he could think of to protect her from the swarming group that was now fully surrounding them.

He pulled her against him and then forced her to drop down with him so he could shield her with himself – they were too tightly hemmed in to fight back effectively and Dante had had enough. Their resistance had only roused the mob to greater anger and they tried to descend upon them with even more ferocity. Fists, knees, feet all came pummeling down on him but Dante was more concerned with deflecting blows going for Tess and fighting off any attempts of the mob to drag them apart. The last straw was a stone clonking against his head hard enough to draw blood.

Now at knee level to the mob, Dante took advantage of an opening, drew both his guns from under his coat and fired off a few rounds. The first two were warning shots that deliberately missed, but when they failed to dissuade the aggressive swarm, the rest pierced flesh and popped a few knees. The time for mercy was well past, though he still wasn’t willing to kill any of them. Tess yelped as the gunfire erupted loudly in the chaos.

“Shit, the kid’s packing!!”

As soon as the noise registered properly as gunfire, most of the thugs backed off in a hurry. Two or three fell on their backs, clutching wounded legs and screaming in pain. Most backed away, some limping with blood strains blooming along their jeans and shoes. Some were outright fleeing.        

Dean had been spared of a bullet, but he’d been knocked down by one of his fleeing flunkies and Dante caught him glaring with grit teeth like a savage dog. “You little--!”

With some breathing space secured, Dante and Tess were able to jump to their feet and fight back properly. Tess kicked one of the thugs who were doubled over right in the face. A crack let Dante know that his nose was broken, as he reeled back and a stream of blood flowed over his mouth.

“You maniac!” she yelled at Dante. “This is not a time to play the hero! And you cannot save my ass by taking all the hits so you can guilt-trip me!”

Dante chuckled as he turned around and pistol-whipped one of the thugs hard across the jaw, sending her sprawling. So she _did_ care! Most of the gang was running away. A few were still around, spurred on by Dean’s swearing and threats if they ‘deserted’. Dante and Tess were now back to back and he could hear her hard breathing from the excitement and effort. One of the thugs lay on his back, groaning and clutching his throat.

“Had enough, asshole?” Dante taunted his rival with a _devilish_ grin. “Think you can still take me on?”

Dean just glared back, rallying and clenching his fists. “You motherfucking piece of shit…”

Just like that, time seemed to slow to a crawl. The air grew heavy and gritty. Sound dropped off to a background hum and _something_ came upon them. A shade had stretched itself from the corners of reality, from the thin shadows hanging in the twilight and reached out for purchase. Dante froze up. He knew this feeling, what it was, even though he’d never felt it in his life – but he knew of similar feelings, feelings that crept and grasped and whispered. The sky hung low and dark like a giant suspended eye.

Behind him, Tess gasped and he turned to catch her eyes widen and she stumbled backwards, right into his arms as if something had given her a blow to the chest. She grabbed on for support and stared – Dante followed her gaze to find her staring at nothing before she blinked and her hand reached for her face that contorted from pain.

“Something’s happening--!” she blurted.

Dante grunted affirmatively. He backed up away from the thugs, who were petrified and seemed to have ‘tuned out’ abruptly, staring vaguely and blankly ahead of them. Dante felt it happen, the start of a corruption unfurling in the humans and starting to turn them into something _other._ He cursed. Demons were the last thing they needed right now. He glanced at Tess suddenly, almost expecting to feel the same from her but caught her mumbling a series of sharp, flinty words over and over and a low thrum of power carried over them.

Resistance. Defiance.

It took a load off his chest and he herded her away from the thugs, between him and a sturdy old truck, keeping himself between her and the thugs. The remaining thugs were stock still and they seemed to have become comatose while still standing. But something in them was very much active, trying to dig itself up out of them.

Dante gave Tess a soft shake. “Tess. Tess, c’mon, look at me!”

It was useless; she stared and stared and kept muttering – she was fighting her own battle inside and Dante thought she was actually winning. The unnatural sensation choking the very air started to subside, like the shade had gotten what it wanted and slunk away into the dark. The disoriented thugs started to stir and wobble in place. Whatever it was, it had curled around them all, and left a mark on some before fleeing – Dante could sense the remains, like a stain.

It felt… wrong. It was alive, one thing in all of them, the same foul and angry thing. An insane thing.

Dante scowled. Now he could place it. It felt like the madmen he’d fought before. The same ugly feeling coming from them, the growing demonic influence. Now he’d witnessed how it began. These humans weren’t long for the world. He could already feel something _eating them_ from the inside.

Tess snapped out of her daze with a loud gasp.

“S-Something was here!” she uttered, grasping at Dante’s sleeve. “It—it hungers! It sits in the dark and it waits and it hungers…!”

She suddenly shook herself down, as if disentangling herself from something. “Argh, my head,” she grunted and then scanned the thugs. “Oh fuck, Dante, their auras, they’re—“

“I know. They’re going crazy. It’s demonic power. Like the ones we’ve seen before,” he said, frustrated. “The fuck was that thing?”

“I-I don’t know,” Tess quavered and ran her hand over her face.  

She then glanced to the side and shrieked, shoving Dante aside as Dean lunged at them from the side and swung a switchblade over his head and then down where Dante had stood – the blade struck sparks on the hood of the car right next to Tess. Dean’s eyes had rolled back into his head and his grit teeth were creaking horribly as foam built up from his hard breathing.

Dante kicked him hard to push him back. “Do me a favor," he grunted at Tess. "If it means your life, don't save mine!”

He then lunged Dean, ramming his fist into the possessed human’s face, sending him reeling. Dante heard the crack of bone but was dismayed to find it meant nothing to Dean – he just snapped back and tried to tackle him. Another of the damned thugs dodged around Dante and seized him from behind, arms under the half-demon’s armpits to force Dante’s arms up. Dante struggled but found he was fighting against supernatural strength. A third person descended upon him and a fist crashed into his gut, knocking the air out of him.

There was no doubt in his mind now, as he coughed: These thugs were now under the thrall of some demonic influence using them as a conduit, a way to stretch a claw out into the world. Dante could already tell that it was literally eating them from the inside. He saw their bloodshot eyes, the bursting veins pulsing under the skin and the start of hideous changes as bone would start to burst out of the skin and teeth would tear through the lips.

Tess seemed to know too as she made an attempt to assist him; he saw the glow of flame just before she was tackled by a larger girl who grabbed her by the hair and whipped her around to drive her knee into the redhead’s stomach. Tess yelped and then struggled against her captor, twisting the other girl’s arm in an effort to free herself. Dante heard an ugly pop from the girl’s elbow as Tess hit it hard, but her attacker’s grip didn’t slacken. The two girls fell to an awkward grappling while a man slowly approached with a broken bottle in hand.

He had to divert his attention though as Dean took advantage of his incapacitation to stalk at him with a wicked grin, his eyes visibly shifting to a solid red. Dante struggled, feeling his ire rise to greater heights of rage. His foes were not the only ones changing as he felt his blood pump faster, his voice drop to an angry growl and even his teeth seemed to sharpen as he ground them, trying to throw off his captors’ vice-grip holds. His arms flailed uselessly as the hold forced them up. His gun had landed on the tarmac with a hopeless clatter and yet none of his foes seemed to pick it up.

He grunted when Dean raised the switchblade he was holding and plunged it right into Dante’s chest, getting a grunt of pain from the teenager. Tess must have seen it because she screamed his name even as she struggled with her opponent. Dean twisted the blade, trying to drive it further in and when that failed, he drew it out with an ugly squelch and wound his arm back for another. That was the end of the line for Dante, who sounded a deep snarl form the bottom of his chest and thrashed hard. He threw his weight backwards, tucked his legs up and stomped hard against Dean’s chest, sending him flying. Then he swung his head forward and then back, smashing the back of his head into the face of his captor. Demon influence or no, the impact caused his hold to slack and with a sudden swing of the arms, Dante was free. He grabbed the man who’d been holding him and with an abrupt swing threw him straight into yet another corrupted thug, sending them both sprawling.

He swept up his gun and shot Dean in the knee, destroying the joint and ensuring he’d stay down long enough for him to get some breathing room. Dante was angry, _very_ angry and it was evident. He had to muster every ounce of his self-control to not outright shoot Dean’s head to chunks or do something worse. Dante spun around, caught a lunging thug and with phenomenal ease threw him back first against a wall abutting the parking lot, where he collided with a resounding _thud_ and the sound of cracking bones.

He turned just to catch Tess fend off one of her attackers with a burst of flame that send him flailing backwards with his hands over his face, screaming. She was struggling so much that the woman restraining her had to lock her arm around the witch’s neck and was close to throttling her but still seemed to be losing her footing as the witch screamed profanities and flailed. The woman attempted to grab her by the hair to control her but Tess angrily _bit_ her captor’s exposed arm and twisted out of her hold so violently that she left a bit of her hair clutched in her captor’s fingers. Tess spun around, rammed her heel into her captor’s knee, knocked her down and then kicked her in the face.

Dante took a step forward to assist her when a thug tackled him from the side and then directed a deformed fist at the boy’s face. Dante had a split-second to see the bone spurs erupting through the burst skin before they connected to his jaw in a thunderous punch. He heard a crack come from his jaw and a stab of pain but he rallied and pointed both guns at the thug, putting a bullet each in his hands and a final hail into his center of mass, sending him to the ground. He then spun around again to catch another fist coming his way and with a sudden flick of his wrist he snapped his attacker’s arm and fired two bullets straight into his skull.

Tess, having disentangled herself from her attackers, was rushing for him when the creature that had been Dean tackled her with an inhuman screech. They both went down and Tess screamed as she kicked him off her and tried to flee, just to fall down again when he grabbed her ankle with a hand that was rapidly turning into the horrid paw of a beast. Even Dante knew instinctively what she was witnessing; the thug was turning into a demon right before her eyes, faster than any of the rest. Whatever was turning these people, it was focused almost entirely upon him now. Unable to stand, it reached out and dragged Tess toward it, even as she screamed and struggled to free herself, ramming her hand against his face to keep his now gaping maw away from her.

Dante holstered his guns and gave his jaw a punch to knock it back into place properly, a resounding crack indicating his success. He rubbed his chin irritably as he stomped over towards them. A final thug thought to rush him but Dante took him out easily by raising his arm and allowing him to run head first into his arm, whereupon Dante took him down with an impressive lariat and a bullet to the skull.

 _“Fucking demon influences,”_ he thought angrily. _“And why the hell isn’t she using fire to get out of that, is she expecting a rescue?”_ his thoughts carried on without realizing it. _“Wait, what the fuck—d’oh, he’s too close, she’ll burn herself—“_

He got to them just as the thing that had been Dean overpowered Tess and pinned her to the ground. He rushed in and wound back his leg. The creature looked up as it heard his approach – its eyes were entirely yellow and its faintly human face was elongated and stretched by a hideous Glasgow grin and serrated teeth. Dante’s foot impacted with its face with a nasty crack and a snapping noise. Dante felt bone cave in under his boot and grunted appreciatively. Its grip loosened and it was knocked away with a screech, tumbling to a stop on its back. It lay there for a moment, dazed, then jumped up onto its feet, hunched and panting, still grinning. Crackling noises from the hands heralded large bone spurs erupting out of the familiar form and the jaw dislocated as the teeth swelled to an alarming size.

Dante locked gazes with it, baring his teeth without thinking about it. He helped Tess to her feet and quickly pushed her behind him before he drew his guns again.

“Stay behind me. Don’t do anything stupid,” he said grimly.         

Tess just nodded sharply, glancing around them for any other stragglers. Most of the other gang had now vanished. The few that lay around were evidently dead, the demonic features withering along their bodies and making them look like they’d been dead for far longer than a few minutes.

“This is insane…” she muttered.

The creature cackled, tilting its head sideways, then swayed from one side to the other thoughtfully. Suddenly it dashed for Dante, dodging a direct shot and quite literally pounced on him. Dante swung his arm and smashed the bottom of his gun against the leaping menace, tossing it aside and into the roof of a car with a loud crash. Glass exploded outwards and the tortured squeal of metal accompanied the creature’s thrashing as it tried to recover. It rolled off the wrecked car just to get body-checked into it again as Dante charged and dug the barrel of Ebony into its gut.

The gun was crackling with energy.

“Later,” Dante snarled and pulled the trigger.

A barrage of bullets, laced with searing demonic power, burst through the creature. It screeched and howled as it thrashed about, the body tensing and twisting in death-throes. Its skin turned completely gray and scaly as it slumped onto the ground. As it crumpled, a wispy black entity, very reminiscent of the one they’d seen before, leaped out of the crumbled body, rearing back to attack before it burst into flames, flailing weakly as it dissolved in midair.

Dante breathed out and put his guns away and turned to Tess. She was breathing hard, staring at the spot where the wisp had risen, hand outstretched.

“It—it was going to hurt you,” she said breathlessly. “It was angry.”

She let her arm drop to her side, her eyes wide and Dante thought she must still be in a bit of shock. Her eyes travelled at the remains of the creature that had been Dean.

“He’s dead,” she whispered. “Good.”

Dante grabbed her hand. “C’mon.”

They fled from the scene, even as the oppressive feeling that had smothered them was rapidly dissipating. They were lucky to not encounter anyone, neither passerby, nor someone from the gang who might’ve returned. Dante did eventually hear police sirens in the distance but by then they’d ducked into an alley far from the scene. They stopped, panting, and Dante let his back rest against the wall.

“Don’t like seeing me hurt, eh?” he half-teased. “You love me, Twig.”

Tess stopped beside him with her hands on her knees and absently she whapped his arm. “Shut up—“ she muttered, blushing. “But of course I don’t want to see you get shredded by some demon.”

He tilted his head back, staring at the evening sky between the buildings. “Well for what it’s worth, I wasn’t gonna sit there and let them talk shit about you,” he grumbled.

He rubbed his chest; the wound from his stabbing was gone and he was only left with a relatively small hole in his shirt – and its dark color would hide any blood spatters.

“Hey, are you alright?” she asked, standing straight.

He shrugged. “Right as rain, Twig,” Dante said, then absently put his hand out and wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek. “What about you? They got a few hits in—“

She looked away, her face turning red. “I’m fine. Sore but I’ll sleep it off,” she mumbled, then looked at the hole in his shirt guiltily.

“Do you wanna go back? Roy, he could—“ she suggested.

Dante smiled and flexed his shoulder. “Nah. I didn’t come all the way out here and kicked demon butt to go back empty handed. I want some celebratory pizza,” he said cheekily.

And then he quipped. “You’re cute when you’re worried about me.”

She stared and Dante was afraid he’d stepped over some line in the sand again but then she shrugged. “Someone has to, I guess.”

Dante nearly did a double take and had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and do so casually. She… cared? When was the last time someone had cared? They silently moved on towards the pizza restaurant again, but they avoided the main road and stuck to back alleys instead. Tess glanced back a few times.

“Those people… there’s nothing we could’ve done, right?” she muttered.

“Nope,” Dante said, frowning. “Whatever got in ‘em was there to stay. They _let_ it in. There was no saving ‘em.”

“I… actually knew that guy. And I…I’m not sure that I really care he’s dead,” she said quietly. “I’d even argue he… he deserved that, stupid bastard.”

She shivered visibly. “Does that make me sound… evil?”   

Dante laughed. “Hell no, Twig,” he said reassuringly. “He sounded like a piece of shit anyway. How’d you know him, exactly?”

She shrugged. “He used to live in the boarding house, a few years ago, with some friends of his. But they caused us no end of trouble. I kind of liked him when he first moved in, he was funny.”

She looked wistful for a whole second and then scowled. “Then I realized what kind of idiot he really was and all his antics stopped being funny.” She flicked her gaze to Dante. “I was serious about the whorehouse bit. He was awful.”

Dante looked away suddenly to hide what he suspected might’ve been a twinge of… jealousy? _Really?_

 _“Fuck’s sake, I just offed him,”_ he thought.

He tried to play it off but couldn’t stop his mouth from throwing out something dumb: “So… did he like, hit on you?”

He almost ran away or punched himself. Tess gave him a weird look but also… blushed a little. “I…I’m not sure. Like I said, he was weird. I think what he was doing was ‘creeping on me’ rather than anything.”

Dante heard his knuckles pop as he tightened his fist suddenly and he looked away again to hide a satisfied smirk. “What a loser,” he muttered.

He felt her staring at him and decided to quickly change the subject before she asked any awkward questions. “You handled yourself pretty good back there, by the way. Where’d you learn that stuff?”

She shrugged. “Roy’s been teaching me some things,” she admitted. She sounded kind of proud in an awkward way. “He decided that since I don’t let him follow me everywhere, I should know how to watch my back. I think he did it to put an end to all the fights we had whenever I caught him tailing me.”

Dante laughed. “I didn’t think he’d want you getting into that sorta thing! Gotta give the old bat some credit. You’re not half bad,” he added, smirking.

“I haven’t had to actually practice what I know like that before, though,” Tess huffed. “I mean… I _have_ beaten up a few people but… you know, not this kind of thing,” she added, making a gesture of irritation. “And you! You saw the chance to play hero and you _jumped at it!”_ she chuckled.

“Yeah, a real knight in shining armor, that’s me,” he said smugly.

They didn’t want to admit it, but they were both tense all the way until they finally reached the pizza diner. If they hadn’t taken such a massive detour thanks to the gang and their ‘scenic route’ they would’ve been there almost an hour ago. They both stopped outside the place to straighten themselves out so as to now get any awkward looks. Neither looked especially roughed up and they could excuse the worse bits away as running mishaps. They stepped inside the cozy place cheerfully enough and Dante even joked about getting his reward for successfully vanquishing their foes.

It made Tess giggle and Dante suddenly felt rather proud about getting that laugh out of her.


	11. Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Dante picks a fight.

The two of them spent a few hours at the pizza diner, eating and talking. Were it not for their recent scuffle and the topic of their conversation, it might very well have been the most normal evening in Dante’s entire life. They talked about what they’d just seen and how it might’ve connected to the other madmen they’d encountered and the Bloodgoyles. They kept their conversation quiet and fell silent whenever anyone came near and although they wouldn’t admit it, they were both now incredibly wary of people. Tess had taken to studying auras more closely in case she could see ahead of time if anyone was about to… turn.

She wouldn’t tell Dante, but she was studying his aura too. She was actually worried he might be affected by whatever was making the city spiral further into whatever was causing a rise in the incidents of violence. While they were there a customer had to be forcibly escorted out when he blew up on a staff member out of nowhere and Tess whispered to Dante that the man’s aura had been acting oddly the whole time.

They decided that between their stay at the diner and the incident with the gang, they’d been out for a long while and could potentially expect to catch Roy patrolling the streets, looking for them. The sun had fully gone down when they stepped outside and the air was cold and crisp. Dante looked up at the sky and smelled the air; he caught the sharp scent of impending snow. He breathed out and watched his breath turn hazy and smiled. He wasn’t ever going to doubt the Twig’s taste in eateries again.

He stretched lavishly. “That was awesome. I’m gonna sleep like a log tonight.”

Tess chuckled. “I still can’t believe how much you can eat, it’s like there’s a black hole in your stomach.”

He shrugged, grinning. “I’m a growing half-demon, Twig, I need the food! But you sure made fast work of that chocolate cake!” he teased, poking her stomach. “Even though there’s half a cake still uneaten at the house. Maybe you _can_ get some meat on them bones.”

Tess squirmed away from the poke, covering her stomach with her arms and laughed. “H-hey! C’mon, I just like the cake they make here. Sue me!”

Dante really thought that the whole evening would end quietly, like that, with nothing more than the thugs attacking them. They’d actually managed to avoid going near where it happened, too, taking a somewhat longer route through the main streets. They passed a few people on the street and several cars trundled quietly along the snow-ridden road. Everything felt normal.

And then it didn’t.

They were so close to home, too.

The wind, which up till then had been but a chilly breeze, picked up, howling softly as it rushed between the buildings. Dante felt his shoulders hunch defensively, it was that cold. In fact, it crept down his spine and he was pretty certain that he heard a distant, rattling breathing carried with it. He stopped and turned his head. Down a street crossing their path, he could just make it out in the dark. The dark expanse of the park. Something felt… wrong. His instincts, both demon and hunter, pricked up. He knew a challenge when he felt it. But it was vague, elusive. He almost started to walk towards the park to try and get a better pinpoint when he heard Tess’ groan.

He whipped around to find her lagging behind and staggering against a nearby building. She was palming her face and seeking to keep herself upright with the other against the wall.

Tess felt sick, in a strange, vague sort of way. She felt… _stained_ , somehow.

“Not now,” she whispered, trying to maintain sovereignty of her own mind. “Please just… let me… be…”

But the visions forced themselves in and she drew a pained breath. Her ears buzzed with a low, deep droning, punctuated by a rising crescendo of voices screaming and whispering at the same time. Her vision blurred into a sheet of vague shapes and running, diluted colors that swirled and blotted themselves out into darkness. She was thrust forward, pushed endlessly down a dark hallway – no, not pushed, _wheeled_ down it, she lay on her back and someone was pushing her along. The walls were grim in the harsh neon lights that flickered and as she watched the walls rotted, the paint peeling and withering and the brick masonry beneath crumbling.

 _“No! This is not real, this is not real! Remember, this **is not real**!!” _ she screamed without a sound. _“But you know that it **is**!!”_

She felt vertigo, her body suddenly falling endlessly, the air whistled by her ears and she had no control. The whispering continued, persistent and _demanding._ Something reached out for her, tugging at the edge of her conscience. She wanted to turn away from it and flee but she had no control. It inched closer and closer until she finally wrenched herself away.

She felt herself falling into water suddenly, cold, deep, dark water. She slowed, sinking deeper and deeper into the silent hell and couldn’t breathe—

“Tess?”

It sounded like it came from the bottom of a well. Instead of sinking, she suddenly started to rush upwards, towards light. The presence slunk away. Her name was called again just as she burst through the surface…

…into the cold air of the real world. She wasn’t standing, she felt her back against something and her jeans felt damp and very cold. She was sitting, slumped on the ground. Though conscious, she wasn’t fully in control and knew her eyes were wide and blank and staring. She was shaking. She could see now but everything was still hazy. She had trouble breathing – the air was thick with some stifling presence, still.

“I-It’s here, again!” she whimpered.

Her head lolled to the side and she found herself staring down the street towards the park.

“It’s waiting, waiting – it gnashes its teeth and it won’t let it have it…!” she carried on, unable to control her jaw. “It’s calling—no, it doesn’t want to listen! That’s why we were spared--!! It fights, it resists but it won’t let it go! It wants to run loose and it wants—“

“ _Tess!”_ Dante said louder and the anxiety in his tone was a far more palpable shock to her than his light shaking.

She felt his hands move her so she was sitting up and then he moved her chin so she’d stare at him.

“Tess, what is it, who is—?”

She shook her head mutely. She wasn’t certain whether she was still stuck in a vision or whether she was seeing something… else. In reality.

A demon was staring right at her, almost in her face. It had a face right out of a nightmare with piercing red eyes… but they were so _human_. She blinked and it was gone, she could see him now but her sight was swimmy. She felt sick and like she was about to faint so it was just as well that Dante was apparently holding her from falling over.

“C-cold… can’t breathe,” she muttered.

She blinked again several times and finally found her breath with a gasp, her eyes snapping open as clarity returned to her so abruptly that she felt lightheaded and wobbly. She grabbed onto his coat sleeve as he held her and directed a confused look at him.

The vision had passed.   

Dante stared back at her with an actually concerned look on his face. He’d felt something funny just before he turned around, not _quite_ demonic. There had been plenty of that in the background, for sure, but what got his attention was more like a clear bell in the din of a storm. He had dived at her when she went limp and started to pitch forward and he managed to get her into a gentle seat. He shivered suddenly when he touched her, like static had run through him. The strange sensation got stronger and he winced, suspecting she was having a vision.

“Tess, did I mess up your sight thing--?” he blurted.

She shook her head but she looked so dazed he wasn’t entirely sure that she fully registered what he said.

“That – that thing! In the park…” she mumbled. “That demon… there’s… it’s… not itself… it’s back but not back—I don’t know! I don’t know!”

He frowned. She sounded afraid but also… really dazed and he wasn’t sure whether to worry about her or not. But he did narrow his eyes at what she said. She was trembling and he took hold of her hand gripping his coat. They were staring at each other.

“You know… you got… pretty eyes,” she blurted.

Dante’s face felt really warm suddenly and his sharp, concerned look melted into a confused and embarrassed expression that actually made him a little indignant with himself. He was _not_ flustered!

“Okay, you’re officially not playing with a full deck, Twig,” he said, backing away a bit.

He reached down and helped her stand up but she was wobbly so he let her lean into him for support. She stared at the street leading to the park and her face was scrunched up in worry.

“Looks like Chernobyl is coming back in town,” he muttered.

As much as he’d like to tear off and investigate, he couldn’t. He wasn’t ready, he was only half armed… and he was currently helping a witch who looked like she’d been through the tumble-dryer.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked when she said nothing.

“I think… it’s going to be at the park. Holy shit…” she groaned, rubbing her face. “I’ve…I’ve seen things before but this hurt so much. It was so clear and…and scary. I’m not sure what I saw. It gave me the creeps though.”

“Don’t worry about it right now,” he said, clicking his tongue as they started to walk back. “You’re not up to any running around and I have nothing to go on. Better get outta here and plan.”

Tess opened her mouth to speak but then felt too exhausted to argue. Her head was throbbing. He was most or less hauling her along as she staggered.

“You really do like playing the hero part,” she finally said.

“Like I’ve said, Twig, you love me,” he chuckled. “I mean if you’re finally catchin’ onto it now, great.”

“Yeah, great,” she sighed. “Ain’t this just our luck? We go for a pizza and wind up… like this.”

“I dunno, this is pretty good as far as my dates go,” he chuckled nervously.

She laughed tiredly. “Oh no,” she said dramatically. “Are we bonding?”

“I think we are!” he scoffed. “Maybe it’s time to break out the friendship bracelets.”

“Maybe,” she simpered. “You and me, buddies in glorious weirdness. The secret Fucked-Up Teens Club.”

“We’re gonna need a secret handshake,” he nodded.

“Woo-hoo,” she wheezed. But then her mirth abandoned her. “Don’t… don’t tell Roy that I had a… an episode or whatever,” she said seriously. “He’s going to freak and Grams is going to find out.”

“Shouldn’t she, though?” he asked quickly.

“Not about my vision part. I’ve… I’ve had enough of her treating me like I’m a head case. She might get so paranoid she’ll never let me leave the house,” Tess grimaced.

Dante just nodded briskly, scowling.

She scowled at him a little. “Dante, I’m _okay,”_ she insisted. “Do _not_ dare act like Roy.”

Indeed, as they walked along she seemed to have recovered her strength enough that she could walk without much support but Dante wasn’t inclined to let go of her and they walked together.

“I’m not,” he blurted. “It’s just… damn, Twig. That sight of yours is actually creepy. I didn’t think it messed you up that much. You really might not be cut out for this shit—“

“Stop that, don’t even go there,” she interrupted. “We already had a fight about that, remember? I’m _fine._ I’ve been through this before. I just need to… set up some things.”

Dante scowled. He knew she was lying. She was really pale and he thought she might’ve been a little nauseous. He decided not to start any more arguments with her and said nothing until they reached the front door of the boarding house. He hadn’t taken his arm from around her waist the entire time and just walked her over the lounge so she could sit down on the couch.

“Feel better?” he asked.

Tess hunched forward, her face in her hands and her elbows on her knees and nodded briefly.

“I do now,” she said as she breathed out. “That was a very potent feeling back there. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything as strong.”

It was just as well that was all she said, because Roy’s feline form wandered in from the lobby.

“At last, you’re back,” he said. “I had half a mind to go out and—yikes! What happened to you two?” he continued with an alarmed tone, looking up at them. “You both look… battered. Even you, Dante.”

Dante glanced at Tess to catch her somewhat panicked look, then shrugged. “We just went out for pizza. We got jumped by some stupid gangbangers. We got away but we got a bit roughed up.”

“Yeah, just tired, you know?” Tess added quickly.

Roy’s ears folded back and his tail started to flick back and forth. “A gang!” he growled. “As if having a potential demonic threat isn’t bad enough – human nonsense! This city really is spiraling into mayhem.”

He neared them and jumped on the couch, gently rubbing up to Tess who ran her hand along his head and back.

“You should both go get some rest, it’s late and you look terrible,” he said, turning his luminous eyes to Dante.

In doing so, he didn’t see Tess’ tired but grateful smile. Her lips moved in a silent ‘thank you’. Dante just nodded subtly and smiled back. “Sure thing, furball. Hey, ya need help going up, Twig?” he offered.

He only realized later he’d spoken the nickname softly, even affectionately. Where had all the teasing gone? She took the offered hand to stand up but then shrugged.

“Nah, I’m good to go up, I’ve got some dignity left,” she said and Roy snorted, his ears drooping. “’Sides, Roy might get the wrong idea.”

“Ha-ha, _hilarious_ ,” crooned the cat mirthlessly. “Go to bed, you.”

She shrugged and wandered towards the stairs slowly. “Hey, was fun goin’ out with ya today,” she teased. “Next time let’s skip the gangbang, though. ‘Night.”

“I know, right? Might as well skip the dating if we’re gonna get in trouble just going for pizza!”

Clearly, neither of them cared about whether Roy _was_ getting the wrong idea and the cat knew it, curling up on the couch with his tail flicking. Dante flopped on the armchair right across from the couch with the fuming cat. He turned his large green eyes onto Dante.

“No rest for the wicked, I see?” he asked smoothly.

“Not yet,” Dante chuckled.

“Hmm... now you look like you want to talk. Go on, I'm quite at leisure,” the cat went on.

Dante smiled awkwardly and then scratched the side of his neck. “Do we have to do the talking cat thing?”

Roy chuckled quietly, his tail swishing. He half-closed his eyes. “Don’t begrudge an old man for getting _comfortable_ ,” he said, pointedly curling into a loaf-like position.

Dante rolled his eyes a bit and got comfortable too; he kicked his boots off and pulled his legs up on the armchair.

“So… we got _any_ plans in place in case Chernobyl or whatever comes back?” he asked bluntly.

Roy blinked slowly. “Well, well… whatever makes you say that?” he asked back pointedly.

Dante shrugged. “Just a hunch. I just know demons like him aren’t the type to leave well alone.”

“I can’t say you’re wrong there,” Roy sighed. “Magda and I… well, she’s finally been spooked enough to try _something._ If it works, we may get some assistance.”

Dante scowled. “And if it doesn’t?”

Dante was amazed that cats could actually look that grim. “Then we really are on our own,” Roy growled. He flicked an ear. “Dante, listen: it’s against my principals to _meddle_ , even when it comes to these matters. Do as you please – but _have a care._ I’m not sentimental but I’d rather not see you dead. You’ve got confidence in your skills, boy, but don’t let it get to your head.” 

Dante bit back a laugh. “Wait, did I hear that right?” he chuckled. “Aww, so you _do_ like me, furball.”

He grinned widely at Roy’s ears folding back and his tail swishing irritably. Evidently, though indeed the djinn was fond of him enough, he still thought Dante deserved a kick in the ass.

“No wonder you get on Tess’ nerves all the time. You’re nearly depleting _my_ patience,” the cat grumbled. Then his ears pricked up. “Hmm, Magda’s calling me. Probably came to a decision about her plan. Well then, goodnight.”

Roy hopped off the couch and padded out the lounge slowly, leaving Dante to sigh. He got up, snatched his boots and headed to his room. He glanced at Tess’ door as he passed. He frowned thoughtfully and then walked on. He dropped his boots at the foot of his bed, threw off his clothes and dropped in bed for a good long sleep. He made plans just before he drifted off.

 _“I’m going to get this son of a bitch before it gets us,”_ he thought.

The next day he made a point of slipping out and more or less patrolling, looking for signs of Chernobog’s return. He found nothing except a few Bloodgoyles that seemed to be studying him closely. Irritably he attempted to shoot them down just to watch them flee. He frowned. Their behavior really puzzled them.

In fact, this pattern repeated itself the day after that and then again the next. He found himself irritably cooling his heels even as he searched the city, almost from end to end. Magda was unusually cryptic and even took Roy with her on a lengthy errand, leaving him and Tess to ‘hold the fort’ with strict _orders_ to keep their noses out of trouble. They did, mostly on account of a freak snowstorm that made them both wonder whether Chernobog really was just circling around them like a shark.

Dante was restless, barely able to distract himself from his grim plan. If Tess or Roy had noticed his agitation, they never said anything about it to him.

At length, however, his patience was rewarded. One night he lay awake, trying to sleep, when he suddenly sat up. He listened; although everything was quiet, he felt it, with a sense not of human ken and he scowled at first, but then smirked evily.

“There you are…” he muttered quietly.

He got up, got dressed and picked up his guns and sword. He secured Rebellion directly to his back. No need to bother with obfuscation now. He was on a mission. He opened his window and slipped out, shut it and then jumped down. He landed in front of the building with a crunch of snow and glanced back up at the building. It was entirely quiet, with just the weak-willed light on the front door lit. The rest of the street was empty and dark, the cold air biting at his skin mercilessly but Dante hardly paid attention.

He walked under flickering streetlights and past empty, quiet stores. Even the lone bar he walked past was practically empty and unusually forlorn. It had snowed all week and as he walked, a few dancing flakes drifted downwards around him and his feet crunched onto a mixture of fresh and compacted, frozen snow. He was almost impressed at how quiet the city was in the winter night but he knew precisely why that was so. That old survivor instinct of humans kept them all away, blissfully denying the reality of what they were sensing. He could just feel it in the air. There was a sense of dread hanging about the city, making people uneasy and forcing them to seek refuge wherever they could.

Not all, though. As he very well knew, some, it drove _mad._ Infernally mad. Dante knew it in his gut that it wouldn’t end unless he ended it. He let the feeling draw him along, following it back to the source. To the park.

He frowned, wondering whether he really ought to be doing this… alone. Tess would probably punch him again for ditching her and going solo. He actually missed her presence but there was no way he could put her through this. Chernobog had terrified her the first time they beheld him and his mere presence had brought her to near shambles just a few days ago. He couldn’t let her get involved in this.

He was confident that he could handle this frosty bastard, anyway. 

He did pause to reflect that a damn park was kinda lackluster, as far as showdown locations were concerned. One of these days he’d actually fight demons somewhere _cool._

The front gates of the park, which Roy had more or less demolished when he came to his and Tess’ rescue some time ago, were still cordoned off by the municipal services, in the middle of being refitted. It was hardly going to stop him. He walked right past it all, vaulting over some flimsy barriers and followed the trace deeper into the park. It was clear as day to him now, that feeling of demonic presence. It was flat-out calling him, issuing a challenge and Dante was not one to ignore a thrown gauntlet.  

He felt something fastening shut behind him, and heard the soft crackling of ice. He didn’t need to turn back and look, he knew that the way out had been barred, whether by ice or mystically. Chernobog wanted him here and Dante wasn’t going to disappoint.

The park was dark and thickly covered in snow; it crunched underfoot as he proceeded towards the epicenter of the feeling drawing him there. The street lamps trying to illuminate the park’s promenades flickered weakly, smothered by the presence lurking somewhere there.

At last, his persistence was rewarded. The shrill screams of Bloodgoyles filled the air as a small swarm of them swooped out of the sky. Simultaneously, the ground _rippled_ unnaturally and the air around him boiled in places, a mob of large, fleshy red and gray demons wielding scythes and pitchforks sprang forth, howling as they gathered round their quarry – Dante hadn’t seen Abysses in a long time but grinned all the same.

The first of the demons to leap into the fray to kill him missed as Dante sidestepped casually and drew Ivory, planting a bullet in the demon’s face at close range and targeted another with Ebony, knocking their scythe aside as it swung for him.

“I was hoping for more of a challenge!” he chuckled.

The attacks came in waves, over and over. Dante threw himself into combat with _glee_ , shooting down Bloodgoyles and cleaving aside Abysses with abandon. He danced about, avoiding swung sickles, dodging their leaps and ducking away when they dove into the very ground in an attempt to ambush him from below. He found himself surrounded. With eerie calm, he holstered his guns and jumped over a swinging scythe and deftly kicked off its owner’s face to flip backwards, sending the demon sprawling onto two of its packmates. Dante evaded another Abyss in mid-air, and landed on three scythes that had swung in to strike him before he dodged. He trapped the three piled scythes beneath his feet and grabbing his sword, swung wide, all but decapitating the Abysses in one fell swoop.

Just as he was about to cackle at his success, he was jolted by a painful blow to his back and a fleshy sound preceded a scythe’s tip bursting through his chest. It hurt like hot ice and it filled Dante with an unprecedented amount of anger. How the hell had he missed this?! The demon who had succeeded in maiming him squealed in triumph but when it motioned to swung back and fling its quarry around… it found itself stuck.

Snarling, Dante spun around, snapping the scythe’s blade clean off the Abyss’ weapon and unceremoniously impaled it on his sword with such force that the demon flew backwards, nearly torn in two. He growled and grabbing the protruding edge, pulled the blade out of his chest with anger. It resisted but with another horrible squishy sound and a spray of blood, it snapped out of his chest, staining the snow beneath him cherry red. He flung the scythe tip into the air, knocking down a Bloodgoyle which he then shot to pieces when it turned to stone.

He twirled his sword casually and took to the offensive yet again, dancing around the Abysses and cutting them to ribbons, only occasionally breaking off to shoot down some Bloodgoyles as they attempted to nosedive him.

As the battle spun further, Dante felt his angry grin widening to sporadic delighted yet sinister chuckles. Blood pounded in his temples. He felt lighter on his feet than ever. His teeth felt sharp. His hands ached with the swell of his fingernails and he felt as though something coiled deep inside was raising its head in anticipation.

Dante knocked down another Abyss and cheekily jumped on its back, pushing against the snow with his foot. The demon’s body slid along the slushy snow and ice easily, flailing in confusion as the young slayer laughed excitedly and plowed through his enemies, shooting them down with morbid glee. An Abyss attempting to stop him by swinging its scythe straight at his chest failed miserably as Dante simply jumped off his ‘sled’, allowing the demon to crash into another of its fellows. The blade of the scythe went over his head as he ducked and then he returned the favor with his sword, cutting the demon to pieces.

The last few demons were dispatched just as aggressively. Soon the ground around him was littered with pieces of stone statues that had once been demons and an alarming amount of red-tinted snow, along with some rapidly shrinking chunks. He was left almost panting and scanning the area for more foes. He glanced at his hand, fingers distended from the growth of claws, nearly bursting out of his glove and smeared with a large amount of blood and he smirked without realizing it. He didn’t need a mirror to know that his eyes were probably a violent red. He could see more clearly and he could smell and even taste the blood left behind by his rampage.

His blood was pounding in his veins and he suddenly wanted _more_ opponents to sate the twisted feeling bubbling up in him. It had been a long time since a fight had given him such an intense rush. His excitement was hardly tempered by the realization that he felt his demonic side far too close to the surface. He stared at the blood on his hand and felt the unexpected urge to lick it.

A low cackle made him freeze and he turned around to scan the darkness. He could feel its presence without seeing it. The demon he’d come for was here, hiding in the darkness and the snow flurries that now drifted from the sky. It was a chilling laugh, low and throaty like the biting wind of a snowstorm.

“Yessss… feels good to cut loose, does it not?” the voice drawled. “All this… hiding and playing the fool for humans must be… exhausting.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed, red slits scanning the darkness. “Know what else is exhausting? Dealing with your pussy-footing!”

He nearly snarled, wanting to throw a proper demonic challenge at Chernobog – he knew it in his gut that this was him. He gripped his sword’s hilt so tight that his knuckles grew white and he allowed it to rest over his shoulder, at the ready.

“You’ve no patience, boy,” replied the voice. “I know what you are—“

Suddenly there was a sharp snarl that reminded Dante of a dog snapping at another and an altogether different pitch of the same voice cracked out of the darkness. “A DEMON WHELP POSING AS A FILTHY HUMAN!!” it roared, a voice like falling marble slabs in the dark. “UNWORTHY!”

There was another snarl and a crunch of wood before the first voice returned, silk over a sheet of ice. “Not entirely wrong, but no matter. You’ve been rather persistent to meet me.”

“Then why don’tcha get it over with and show yourself? If I’m _so_ unworthy,” Dante growled. This mockery was making him angry and it did nothing to help his persistent demonic traits subside.

The wind picked up, cold and biting but Dante hardly noticed. His whole focus was on one thing: he was out for blood now. He wasn’t planning on leaving until he’d found this bastard. The demon’s harsh chuckle echoed all around him like the snowflakes spinning down from the sky at the tune of the wind. The flickering lights of the park seemed to shrink further into weak-willed points of light in a sea of darkness and swirling cold, steeped in the unmistakable presence of a potent demon.

There was another snarl as two voices tried to speak.

“Come looking for a challenge--?”

“FOUL PARASITE!”

Dante narrowed his eyes. It almost sounded like the demon was arguing with itself. And then Dante felt it, the presence and the voice joined together. He spun around, trying to locate Chernobog, but was met only with darkness and snow. He was beginning to lose his patience.

“Oh ambitious desire, I like your gumption, boy,” the smoother voice mocked, before switching to the gravelly growl. “CEASE THE PRATTLING!” And then back again. “Fie, let me speak! He’s waited long enough!”

“Damn right I have!” Dante growled.

 _Actually_ growled, too. He felt it in his throat, the guttural voice of something not quite human.

A howling cold blast of wind and needling snow enveloped him and the cruel chuckle drifted to his ears again. Dante’s chest twisted as he felt the looming presence at last and the next thing he knew, Chernobog seemed to materialize out of the darkness behind him. Three heavy, frozen claws dropped on the boy’s shoulder, in a twisted parody of a friendly pat as the massive demon stooped over him. Dante remembered the beast well enough, the tall and lean bulk that looked like living stone and ice. The air around him grew unbearably cold and filled with the crackle of forming ice. A layer of ice formed painfully over his shoulder under the claws. It made Dante grit his teeth and bare them like a dog.

“Tell me, little boy,” the demon growled. “What is it you want? Is this a stake for territory? A bid for power? A _job_?”

Dante snarled and, fighting against the pain of the ice forming over his shoulder, whirled around and swung his sword at his foe. The vicious swing sailed through the air, the blade singing angrily, but the blow went wide as the demon languidly evaded the swing, almost gliding backwards with a snarl.

“Maybe it is, Frosty! Or maybe I don’t like loons like you stinking up my back yard!” Dante challenged. “You don’t even sound like you’ve got it together.”

Now that he faced it, he finally saw the demon properly; its serpentine head swayed from side to side slowly, languidly and the jaw hung slack, frozen haze flowing liquid, like the demon was frothing at the mouth. The gaze was almost unfocused. The whole body twitched and erratically before seizing up and screaming.

“I AM…NO BEAST TO BE…RIDDEN!!” it growled before the voice dropped to a laughing smooth mockery.

But it didn’t come from its mouth, like the loud, angry voice was. It came from the demon’s _chest._ It unfurled its cape-like wings partway and Dante finally saw the inverted mouth and the single, jaundiced eye that rolled around to stare at him.

“An unfortunate necessity – do be quiet,” the voice said, a mingling of the demon’s own voice and whatever it was that was using him. “Are you sure it’s not because your… delightfully fiery little friend of yours doesn’t like it?”

The demon twitched yet again, the body contorting and thrashing as the two voices argued yet again before being mastered. “WICCAN MAGGOTS!! You seem… attached.”

Dante narrowed his eyes. This demon seemed to be… _possessed_. A demon possessing another demon? That’s what it felt like to him. Like the madmen. Taken over and twisted. It was actually sickening to think about it.

“Oh please, you don’t want some weak little human,” Dante snapped, making a dismissive flick of the arm. “I’m here now, why don’t we have some fun!”

He was grinning wickedly.

The demon just laughed, two separate voices, into a crescendo that sounded like the two of them snapping and snarling at each other before it silenced. “For someone so cocky, you know so little of the appetites of your kind.”

Instead of answering, Dante lunged, trying to catch the demon by surprise and get a good hit in, but Chernobog was no fool, even possessed. He intercepted the attack, swinging his arm and backhanding Dante hard enough to send him careening into a snowbank. The impact had been hard, the stone-like skin of the demon biting into Dante’s skin painfully and spreading a layer of painful frost over the side of his head.

“THE BLOOD. THE POWER. Yes, yes, I’ll get to that,” the other voice said irritably. “Have you ever tasted power, child? _Really_ tasted it?” it crooned. “I assure you, its taste is… sublime. WITCH BLOOD. And one with a power such as hers… Now that will be a _treat.”_

Dante pulled himself together from that blow. This bastard sure hit hard and he hadn’t even really shown Dante his true colors. He rolled to his feet just as the demon trudged up to him casually, frost spreading under every footfall.

“Well? Where’s your bravado now, boy? TEAR YOU KILL YOU EAT YOU!!! Oh look, we’re in agreement for once.”

Dante felt the gathering cold and rolled out of the way of large ice shards hurtling towards him after spinning themselves into existence in midair. He drew his guns and shot the next few shards out of the air, exploding them in a flurry of icicles. The barrage of shards came in hard and fast, forcing Dante to employ all of his speed and agility – with the added disadvantage of fighting against the now knee-high snow. His head was still ringing from that backhand and instead of witty retorts, all he could muster were angry grunts.

He was angry and his more demonic instincts were starting to rear their ugly head. He lunged at Chernobog again, drawing his sword and nearly got a good hit in, but for Chernobog’s wing swinging out and catching the blade on its edge, sparks flying as though it had struck metal. The blow had enough force to make Chernobog reel backwards briefly. Dante unleashed a flurry of rapid hits, each one getting parried effectively by the great demon, forcing its concentration there and putting a pause on the rain of ice shards.

Dante’s little victory was short lived, though, as Chernobog snarled, swinging its massive wing suddenly and then ramming its fist right into Dante’s chest. The hit knocked the breath out of Dante’s lungs and the contact cracked some ribs, Chernobog’s ice-covered fist cutting up his skin and clothes. The force knocked Dante backwards, off his feet and sent him careening back first into a tree. He crashed into the thick trunk with such force that it cracked and the tree teetered to the side, just to end up crashing into the snow with a thud and a cloud of power snow.

Dante groaned. He felt splinters stuck in his back and he’d barely held onto his sword.

Before he could rally and jump back to his feet, Chernobog was on him and rammed him into the ground again. All of its bulk bore down on the teenager and it stomped a clawed foot on Dante’s arm with enough force to nearly snap the bone. It stood over him, staring down and the yellow eye on its chest twitched to look right at him with contempt.

“I’m disappointed, you know—FEEBLE WEAKLING!” it said, grinding its foot into Dante’s arm and getting a pained growl out of the teenager.

“You became a bit of a nuisance to me, dispatching all of my vessels A FILTHY HUMAN INSECT!!” the demon said gutturally, still resisting its possession.

Dante saw the eye roll upwards and half-close as though trying to concentrate.

“I can’t believe I had to reach out to this oaf to get you. FOOLISH!! Still, at least now I know where to find THE WITCH. THE WITCH!!”

Dante’s bravado was starting to abandon him; he could hardly breathe from that blow, his sword arm was pinned and he was sure at least a couple of ribs were cracked – his ability to heal was trying to catch up with everything. It did not, however, completely wear down his anger-fueled demonic defiance. He still snarled up at Chernobog, eyes narrowed and teeth bared like a dog. He drew his gun and planted it against Chernobog’s foot. The pistol crackled with power before Dante let it rip, causing the demon to howl in pain and reel backwards enough for Dante to wrench his arm free from under the demon.

He was nearly on his feet when Chernobog rallied and two ice shards crashed into Dante, knocking him back onto the ground. The shards pinned straight into his arm and shoulder, keeping him pinned to the ground. He shouted angrily, in pain, cursing up a storm as Chernobog loomed over him again.

“FIGHT! STRUGGLE!!” the demon snarled but the entity possessing him just laughed. “Less disappointed now but you’re still a child, after all! WEAKLING!!”

Dante responded by growling. “I’m just getting… started, Frosty!”

He forced himself up, succeeding in sitting up. The shard that pinned his arm remained planted into the ground and Dante pulled his arm up around it, leaving a sizeable hole in his bicep while the other remained wedged in his shoulder.

Chernobog snarled and seemed to fill Dante’s entire field of vision, ready to take his anger out of the teenager when a large blast of fire rocketed over the snow like a comet and hit Chernobog straight in the face. The contact was ugly; the demons icy skin burned and fizzled like water falling on a hot surface. The demon screamed painfully, both voices joining in the crescendo of agony. He thrashed, barreling back and his massive tail whipped from side to side, smashing several small trees by snapping them in two.

Dante blinked and had enough presence of mind to glance behind him to see what was coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incidentally! This is the chapter that makes Warmth canon! Read it if you're over 18: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13100604/chapters/29971998


	12. Payoffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Dante takes a long, hard look at the dark and someone pulls him back from it.

Tess was running through the snow as fast as she could manage with a very determined look on her face under her coat’s hood. Another blast of fire fended Chernobog further back, howling and flailing through the blizzard that picked up around them. She finally stood over Dante and bent down, grabbing the icicle in Dante’s shoulder with both hands and yanked it out hard, getting a relieved grunt from Dante. She threw it away and tried to help him stand.

“You are _so_ stupid!” she snapped but then he pushed her hand away and jumped up, towering over her with eyes completely red against black.

He was furious – at himself mostly, at the fact he needed that damn rescue and that she was there when she shouldn’t be! “Are _you_ stupid!? What are you doing here?” he growled and then pushed past her to try and locate Chernobog. “I’m trying to fucking protect you!”

It was pretty pointless because no matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t keep up with the fleeing demon as it vanished into the blizzard, although Dante could still hear its angry and hurt snarls and breathing. He came to an abrupt halt after a few steps, realizing the futility of his chase. He angrily swung his fist against a nearby tree violently, shaking it from root to top, sending splinters flying from the cracked wood.

“Shit!” he bellowed.

He wasn’t paying attention to Tess trudging right after him with an angry look on her face – directed right at him, for his insolence to talk to her like that. She grabbed him by the shoulder, turned him around to face her and then _slapped_ him across the face.

“What the hell are you doing!?” she barked at him. “You keep telling me I’m not up for this and look at _you_! You’re playing right into this fucker’s mind-games, acting like a snapping dog, not a hunter with a plan! Pick your balls off the floor and get your shit together!”

Dante’s gaze flicked right back at her after that slap, red eyes filled with rage and he almost snarled like a dog – just to feel the cold realization that she was _right._ He _wasn’t_ in control. Part of him didn’t want to be, wanted to just hit her back for her insolence, the puny human attempting to tell a demon what to do – but her steely glare reminded him of the last time they had this argument: ‘That’s bullshit!’ she’d barked, right in his face when he bitterly called himself a demon. He suddenly felt ashamed of his own reckless leap into anger and that he gave over to his instincts so readily.

His scowl relaxed and his lips finally rolled over his teeth again as he took a few deep breaths amidst the blizzard. He’d lost his head, again, just like Roy had warned him that he would. That warning would haunt him forever, it seemed. They two of them stared at each other with identical frowns but he found it hard to hold her gaze and he glanced away, ostensibly to keep an eye out for Chernobog but really, to avoid piercing gaze. She could see everything, after all, his aura gave it all away. The noise of Chernobog’s retreat had died off, leaving the howling of the wind around them through the trees and the snow. The demon appeared to have retreated, but wasn’t gone, Dante could feel it there at the edges of his awareness, tugging.

“Snap out of it,” she said. “This freaking out doesn’t… it doesn’t suit you. You let it play you like a fiddle. Get your shit together and let’s kill this damn thing.”

Dante finally was able to look right at her, shaking his head. “Twig, you don’t get it, it’s _after you._ You’re literally walking right into its arms—“

“I don’t care!” she snapped. “You don’t get to play the self-sacrificing hero card with me! If it means your life, don’t fucking save mine!”

Dante gapped for a moment; throwing his words right back at him again! “Tess this isn’t the time—you need to hide, this thing wants to fucking eat you! I’ll take care of it! Get Roy on the case!”

She looked ready to slap him again. “No,” she said dryly. “I _know_ it’s after me and I know what it wants to do – it’s what they _all_ want to do. This has always been my life, genius, it’s nothing new. But I’m done hiding, I’m _sick_ of it!”

Tess shoved him aside and walked away. “It’s an ice demon. I’m a _fire_ witch. I can burn it and I _will_. _”_

Dante stared. He found himself lost in admiration, really. He’d really underestimated how far her nerve went, even though he still knew that her being there was sheer madness. Humans can’t fight demons, can they? Even witches – but she _had_ thrown at his face that _he_ was half human so was she telling him that she, well, _believed in him?_

“Do you want me to slap you again?” she snapped without turning to look at him. “Snap out of and stop being so pig-headed, we’ve got to find this thing and kill it!”

“Tess, wait—“ he blurted, realizing she was standing out in the open without cover.

Then he nearly had a small heart attack.

“I know you’re looking for me!!” she shouted into the blizzard. “Well then, here I am! Come and get me if you think you can!”

Dante spluttered momentarily in shock at her sheer recklessness and her willingness to use herself as bait to lure out that walking icicle. Then he dove at her and grabbed her around the waist and mouth, afraid she might taunt the demon again. He pulled her behind the base of a large statue of some random historical figure that overlooked the park.

“Twig, I take it back, you _are_ crazy!! What are you doing!? I told you to get the hell out of here!” he muttered viciously. “Do you want to fucking die?”

Tess yanked his hand off her mouth and then shoved him off. “ _You’re_ going to get yourself killed! I’m not leaving you alone!” she whispered back angrily. “We can take it out together.”

Dante’s grip loosened. He was being a bit of a hypocrite, he knew it, but he also knew that he was the one who could _afford_ being reckless. He was the one who didn’t think his life mattered enough to be preserved. But Tess did. And he wasn’t sure how to process that.

“Goddammit, Twig…” he muttered, surrendering.

Before either could say another word, Chernobog burst through the sheet of swirling snow into the open with a horrible growl, landing heavily with a thud. His face was severely burned, one half scarred and blistered, eye shut in a grimace of pain and anger.

“You miserable little bitch,” the thing in Chernobog snarled quietly, the jaundiced yellow eye spinning round to stare at her. “WICCAN EXCREMENT!!” howled the demon itself. “Your kind ever so likes to stick your noses where they don’t belong. MORTAL WORM! You should’ve listened to your friend and run along – I’ll find you yet. I HAVE YOUR SCENT!”

Tess simply stared the demon down with clenched fists and Dante abruptly pushed her behind him and make sure to _hold her back_ from thoughtlessly charging it.

“I’m not afraid of you, ice princess!” she barked

Dante smirked despite himself; looks like he was rubbing off on her after all. And now his pride was on the line. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he lost face to Tess – for pity’s sake, she was more confident than he was. She was showing him up! It annoyed him to the point where his smirk turned a bit sinister and he stared down Chernobog too.

“Damn right,” he said cheekily. “You think you can just rear your ugly ass into the human world and threaten us like that? Did you really think there wouldn’t be someone who could stand up to ya?” he scoffed. “Too bad! Now you’ve ticked us both off and you’re going _down_.”

He grinned smugly at the demon, even feeling confident enough to allow some of his demonic instincts some free reign. He felt his power stretch and reach out almost as if in challenge and he suddenly felt like one dog barking a challenge to another. He grabbed his sword and swung it up, resting it on his shoulder.

Chernobog snarled, the jaundiced yellow eye narrowing in anger as the demon’s good eye glared.

“You’ve got nerve, boy,” it said as the demon’s long arm flicked aside casually and a large icicle of dark, hard ice grew out of nothing into its hand, like a sword. “CUT OUT YOUR HEART yes, I’ll enjoy that, I think. You’ll regret wasting your life over one miserable witch. And then finally get my hands on _you_ , little girl,” it carried on. “EAT YOU WHOLE silence, she’s not an appetizer.”

The demon lunged forward wildly, wielding the shard with what looked like only crude skill at first but tremendous force. The blizzard swirled stronger round him, the wind howling and the snow lashing at mortal bodies like needles. It bore down on them hard just like the demon.

Dante grit his teeth without losing his sinister smile and charged forth as well; then he suddenly side-stepped and swung his sword. He deflected the swipe of the ice blade easily and before Chernobog could reel back, Dante rammed his gun into the demon’s gut and fired a charged shot that pushed him further back and away from Tess. The witch moved out of the way and ducked behind the statue to avoid a blast of icy wind that caused ice to crackle along the ground in jagged shards.

“How about you shut that trap of yours and I’ll show you nerve. Bet you won’t be so smug when I boot you off that pedestal of yours,” he sneered.

“Look out!” was all Tess had time to shout before the brunt of the blizzard that Chernobog summoned hit him.

Chernobog rallied and unfurled its massive wings fully; something seemed to glisten on them and suddenly both it and Dante were surrounded in a dense flurry of snow and frozen wind that wrapped around them like a sheet. Dante was buffeted and found his vision impaired abruptly, his swing going wide and the blade whistling through air. Chernobog on the other hand seemed unperturbed as it avoided the blow and struck the boy with the hard edge of his wing before seizing him by the neck. The massive claw closed around Dante’s neck like a vice and ice crackled over his skin from the contact, the skin beneath turning a bruised blue. With the same easy motion the demon turned and threw him straight across the clearing, smack against a large rock formation. Dante hit the rock back first with a hard thud and before he even slumped to the ground a massive dome of ice erupted out of the ground under him, encasing him in it.

Tess stopped in her tracks and her eyes grew wide. It had all happened too fast for her to interfere save for a large lash of flame that struck the demon’s back just as it threw Dante like a ragdoll. Chernobog grunted deeply and swung around, extinguishing the flames with a swipe of his wing, then the second lash she attempted to push him back with. He trudged towards her, shrinking momentarily from the flames and then forcing her to retreat with icicles that dropped out of nowhere, herding her further back. She tried to dodge around him to get to Dante and free him.

“Enough games, you can see you’ve lost WICCAN STRIPLING!” the demon grunted. “You’re useless to me dead—“

“Shut up!” Tess snapped, ducking under a swipe of the demon’s arm as it snatched at her.

Another blast of flames forced Chernobog back momentarily before it surged forward again, a mass of creeping frost rising ahead of it like a wave and succeeding in catching her legs under a layer of hard ice. It hurt on contact and she blurted a pained shout. The demon did not permit her opportunity to escape, snatching her by the neck and lifting her off the ground, snapping the ice from around her in one fell swoop. The demon stared right at her as she suffocated while slowly freezing, ice crackling over her skin. Her hands scrabbled and clawed at the icy hide of the monster.  

“The problem with you PATHETIC WITCH witches is that you never understand when FOOLS! you’ve lost,” the demon mused.

The yellow eye on the torso strained upwards to stare at her. “Look at you, trying to stare me down IMPUDENT HUMAN as I squeeze the breath out of you. KILL YOU TEAR YOU EAT YOU shush, that’s useless enough to you now.”

It turned round, still holding her and brought her closer to the torso so the eye could study her. The mouth gapped, edges quivering like the maw of an abyssal fish, pointed teeth clicking gently together. “And yet this coincidence—what are you doing, silly thing?”

Tess was choking, fighting for air in the demon’s frozen grip, still trying to free her neck while her legs flailed and twitched in agony – but her mouth was moving.  Behind Chernobog and around the icy prison that held Dante, a thin circle of fire blazed along the snowy ground, then arcane marks along its edge, leaving a delicate pattern on the snow. Her flailing grew weaker and she gurgled in need of air, until she looked right into the yellow eye and kicked out hard, stomping it with the heel of her boot.

“YOU WRETCHED THING—“ howled the demon, its body twisting in pain as the eye shut, blood streaming from the lids.

The impact was enough to cause Chernobog’s hand to slack, just enough for her to manage a deep breath and shout a brief verse of _scorching_ words. They sallied forth carrying a palpable spark of power, rolling like waves and then hung in the air with the reverberating din of a bell. Chernobog – and whatever was ‘riding’ him – was startled. Its grip tightened around the girl’s neck once again for a moment just before the sound of roaring flame and the loud crack of breaking ice.

Dante surged out of the dome of ice with an angry, satisfied shout, his sword _burning_ brightly and his eyes practically aflame with red. The ground where the ice dome had been blazed with a circle of power burned onto the ground. He skidded to a stop beside Chernobog, who turned abruptly to meet him, dropping Tess into the snow. Dante ducked under the sudden swing of the ice blade with a sarcastic laugh and then parried the next, before thrusting the burning sword deep into the demon’s chest, mangling the eye and getting a horrible scream from the demon. The frozen flesh sizzled violently upon contact with the flaming blade and Dante snarled, glaring from beneath messy hair. His fingers were misshapen due to large claws bursting from his fingertips and his teeth were bestial.

“S’up Frosty!” he snarled with a vicious smile. “I’m not tapping out that early!”

Dante felt exhilarated. This fire wreathing his sword was not his doing and yet he could feel it _coursing in his veins_ and it felt like the best high, the best sugar rush and the best orgasm he’d ever had, all rolled into a tingling package and he was thirsty for more of it. At the same time, he was all too aware that he could so, _so_ easily get greedy for this sensation. Witches were right to shy away from demons, if _this_ was the kind of intoxicating power that could result.

Chernobog howled in rage – not the thing riding it, but the real Chernobog. The thing riding him just grunted irritably. The demon pulled away with a slippery, squishy sound and overpowering smell of burned hide. Tess scrabbled away from the immediate melee with a parting shot of a blast of flame that sent Chernobog reeling sideways.

“HALF BREED SCUM!” Chernobog snarled, blood dribbling from its maw.

He unfurled his wings and the violent blizzard renewed itself with harsh ferocity. Before he could charge, the arm holding its sword was engulfed in flames, making Chernobog scream and flail, to the loud snap of cracking ice. It reeled away from Tess, who’d gotten up and although her neck was harshly bruised from the grip and the ice, she had a savage, determined look, ready to fight.

“How do you like witches now, you bastard?” she snarled and Dante wanted to laugh.

Chernobog shrank back, growling in rage as the fire died away under the force of its blizzard, staring between the two challengers. Dante emphatically twirled his still blazing sword, relishing the way the demon watched it with absolute wariness. The voice of the ‘rider’ came up again, but it sounded like it was suppressing fury.

“You… you’ve tricked me,” it growled. “DAMNED WITCH!! You shouldn’t… be able to do that! IMPOSSIBLE! To affect a demonic weapon…!”

The demon reared back, roared and stretched its wings, taking off with a loud beat that raised a relentless snowstorm from the blizzard that succeeded in buffeting the teenagers, forcing them to step back – Tess nearly tumbled into a low bush and Dante almost stumbled backwards into the snow, taking care not to lose his footing. He righted himself and cleared his head from the adrenaline surge that threatened to cloud his focus. He could see clearly enough through the dark and the snow to see Chernobog coming in fast for him, creating a new blade of ice in its hand.    

Now the fight was _really_ starting.

He moved to meet Chernobog, putting the sword away and drawing his guns. Dante dodged all of the demon’s determined swings, both from the blade and its wings’ sharp edge. He responded with pinpoint shots, aiming for the demon’s head and chest but the frozen hide was tough, cracking under the force of the bullets. Dante was forced to suddenly cross his guns over his head to catch an overhead swing of the ice blade. The impact was hard, producing a layer of crackling ice over the guns before Dante pushed it off and Tess blew Chernobog to the side with an explosive burst of flame.

Dante sprang at Chernobog, not intending to let the demon rally. He drew his sword and swung at it, just to get deflected by the ice blade, which creaked loudly at contact with the flaming sword. They exchanged a series of rapid blows, dodging or parrying each other and Dante had to fight against the urge to completely lose himself in this fight as the adrenaline and tension awoke something angry in him. He ground his teeth and finally got a good hit in, slashing at the demon’s chest, forcing it back. The demon retreated, hunched, and spread its wings. Large shards of ice spun into being from the swirling snow of the blizzard. When the demon surged forward again, its already huge hands were covered in a thick layer of ice that formed jagged claws and the shards flew forth aimed for the boy.

But Chernobog had forgotten the witch. Doing her best to bear with the supernatural cold and stand up to the howling blizzard, Tess created concentrated bolts of fire that flew after the shards like falcons. Their controlled trajectories struck the majority of the shards, shattering them on impact. She continued to eliminate the projectiles even as some turned against her. It was difficult to keep track of all of them with the raw power of two potent demons bearing down on her but she grit her teeth and did it. She would love to get more involved in the duel going on just feet away from her but managing the dozens of ice projectiles being created required all of her attention – besides, Dante was so engrossed in the fight that she was certain he might be actually angry at her for interfering further. His aura was excited beyond description, straining at the seams.

All she could do was make sure he could concentrate on it by keeping away the distractions, even if she was gradually freezing.

Dante’s savage heartbeat drummed in his ears over the whistling wind and the roar of flames. He was so focused on this fight it was getting a little hard to maintain his self-control. He was constantly teetering over the edge of getting carried away… and he relished it. The surge of power was incredible. Chernobog and the young hunter were locked in a furious dance of exchanged strikes – Dante deflected all the sword and wing and even tail strikes with deadly precision even though the frenzy of the battle was testing the limits of his skills. He snarled, tongue running over developed fangs and his hands were misshapen with the large claws growing from his fingers. His senses were ablaze with every little detail of the fight.  

He knew he’d lose it entirely if he wasn’t careful but Chernobog bore down on him hard after rallying. It had taken to trying to pin him down with rapidly creeping ice on the ground, trying to either ensnare his legs or give him cause to slip and fall but Dante was wise to his plan and dodged the crackling advance with more precision than he felt he’d ever have, without even thinking about it. He put away his sword and drew his guns, a surge of power already tingling at his fingertips. When he opened fire, the guns roared and shot naught but condensed power that managed to cut through the demon’s thick and frosted hide. The wings were punctured and torn quite badly, finally depriving it of much of its mobility.

Now ground-bound, the demon lunged at him again with Dante continuing to fire upon it until it got too close and forced him to draw his sword instead. Chernobog towered over him and Dante swung upwards to blow an overhead strike that came with such force that the impact of the two blades created a palpable thrust wave and Dante felt the ground crack and cave in under him. He stood there with the demon bearing down on him and the creeping cold crackling along the ground ever closer.

“Thought you’d give up by now!” Dante growled with a smirk as the demon tried to push him down unsuccessfully.

Chernobog just stared back, silent, his face locked in a snarl. The eye in its chest, though damaged, was trained on him and the mouth seemed to breathe in raspy, shallow draws. Suddenly the demon found itself knocked back from a sudden retreat and counter-blow. Dante moved ahead with each strike, handling the sword with the expertise of a seasoned fighter – not with skill so much as pure instinct. Instinct and raw knowledge drawn from the blood rather than training.   

“You… aren’t just a run of the mill mutt,” Chernobog’s ‘rider’ grunted. “IMPUDENT STRIPLING!!” snarled the demon itself.

The shards stopped coming, the demon realizing the pointlessness of their attempts as the young witch stopped them all – even as it drove her to the edge of exhaustion, made evident by the fact that she all but keeled over to her knees when she realized no more were coming. Dante could barely spare her a glance, just enough to know she was taking some brutal punishment from the supernatural blizzard they were stuck in.

Enough dithering.

Chernobog staggered back with a fountain of dark blood pouring from its neck and the ice blade once again shattered as Dante bore down on the demon, intent on finishing him off. The eye on its chest rolled lazily, between the witch and the oncoming hunter. Suddenly Chernobog surged forward, abandoning all caution, stampeding along the upturned and squishy earth, parting blood-strewn snow and slushy mud in its wake. Dante attempted to dodge but the demon was fixated on him, following his every move.

“Dante!! Dante, no, _don’t let it_ \--!!” Tess shrieked but the wind and the pounding blood in Dante’s ears drowned her out.

Chernobog roared, stretching its mauled wings as it barreled into Dante with no care for its own well-being. Chernobog rammed into him full tilt, carrying along a wind so cold it hurt to breathe it in. The impact was hard, the demon’s frozen talons piercing him through the chest as he dug Rebellion, still aflame, straight into the demon’s chest. The collision sounded like distant thunder and Chernobog snarled in pain. Dante was certain he’d won – he felt the demon’s death like the snuffing of a candle. But it’d come at a price; the demon’s momentum did not stop and the combination of a prolonged fight, the hard impact and the cold sapping him of his vitality took a lot out of Dante. He felt weak, his knees turning to rubber.

The two of them pitched backwards, Rebellion tearing out of Dante’s hand and then slipping out of Chernobog’s crumbling chest. Boy and demon tumbled along the ground, talons jammed in the boy’s chest, taking him off his feet. They skidded along the iced lake until a final crash saw then break through the ice and plummet down into its icy waters. Chernobog’s body, made mostly of animated ice and rock-like flesh, sank like lead and Dante was trapped under him, pulled deeper into the frozen lake.

The sudden plummet into the icy waters was a shock to Dante and a firm reminder of his mortality. His earlier battle lust turned to fear and the demonic traits he’d manifested shrank away, hiding from the oppressive sense of dread that now overtook him. Panic and struggling replaced his calm confidence. He could deal with injury, but breathing was an entirely different matter – someday it would be less of a problem for him but here, now, it started to gnaw at him. He grabbed the frozen talons of the demon still stuck to his chest and winced as he strained to pull it out. To his horror, he found his strength draining away and was unable to disentangle himself from the icebound carcass. The cold was paralyzing and his efforts to dislodge the icy claws made him waste energy. He managed to yank them out at last but in doing so, he accidentally opened his mouth and swallowed a big gulp of frozen water that hurt like needles. Water rushed into his chest before the wounds closed, making his situation worse.

Dante felt drowsy and sluggish suddenly. Things started getting darker and less clear as he descended into the dark. Feeling what air he had left wanting to burst from his chest, he forced his mouth to remain shut. He attempted to pull free from the demon’s carcass but his eyes suddenly rolled back and the icy temperatures of the waters sank right into his bones. His last coherent thoughts were about the irony of having survived so many demon assaults, just to die from _drowning_.

Far above him the ice cracked and bobbed on the surface of the lake, floating idly in the large breach left in the wake of Chernobog plunging them into the icy waters. The snowstorm raging around the battle died down rapidly. Tess reached the edge of the lake just a few moments after they went through the ice, panting.

She screamed Dante’s name in hopes that he would surface, searching with eyes wide in the dark for any sign of his bright aura. Minutes passed but there was nothing and he breathing grew shallow and anxious. He was _not_ coming up.

She never stopped to consider what she was doing and what it would do to her, a small, skinny girl of sixteen who couldn’t bear the cold. She skidded and stumbled along the intact ice and haphazardly dove into the frozen water through the hole. It felt almost like hitting concrete and the sudden cold gave her such a shock as it surrounded her that she never made it past the first few feet of water at first. The air was knocked out of her lungs and she was forced back to the surface, gasping for air and trying to breathe through the frigid cold. She began to shake violently and struggled for breath while the weight of her clothes pulled her down.

 _“He’s going to die!”_ she thought. _“He’s going to die and it’ll be_ my fault _! I saw it would happen!”_

The thought hammered determination into her and she took a deep breath, then dove down into the cold, dark water. She kicked hard with her legs, marveling at how much deeper the lake really was under the ice. She plunged into the dark and couldn’t decide what scared her more: the cold, the prospect of drowning, reaching Dante too late, the dark… or the silence. It was eerie, overwhelming and felt as though it were devouring her, blotting out everything, even her thoughts.

She thought of herself as a strong swimmer but nothing could’ve prepared her for these circumstances. She was beginning to panic, searching in the dark, cold water, while her eyes stung and finding nothing but clammy, algae-coated rocks and slimy water plants. She began to panic, running out of air and she knew that if she surfaced, she’d never get back down here.

 _“Where are you!?”_ her mind screamed as she searched blindly, groping about her on the lake bottom.

Seconds stretched to hours but finally, his aura guided her to him. She finally saw it, the weakening, feeble glow just ahead of her. She knew it was him right away and kicked off the muddy lakebed to reach him. In the gloom of the weak moonlight reaching her she saw the outline of Chernobog’s lifeless body – nothing more than lumps of stone strewn across the lakebed now. Dante was pinned beneath the torso, his legs were stuck. To her horror, he looked… dead.

Running out of air, Tess grabbed his arm and pulled, bracing her legs against the muddy lakebed. She pulled hard, trying to free him from under the dead demon. Her lips were turning blue as she bit them together in effort while she felt sluggish and faint from the cold but she simply couldn’t leave him there, dead or alive. She _thought_ that for a moment his dulled aura might’ve flared momentarily, as though he had a brief second of conscience. His arm twitched, almost beckoning her to leave and save herself.

On the contrary though, seeing his aura spring livelier like that gave her hope, the sort she rarely allowed herself to feel about anything. She tugged harder, jerking him sharply to try and move him from under the weight pinning him. Her chest ached with the air bursting in her lugs.

It happened suddenly, the corpse of the demon shifting ever so slightly but enough for her to pull him out of under it. She nearly screamed in joy, letting go of the precious air burning in her chest. She managed to wrap her arms around his chest and pushed off the lakebed, rocketing for the surface as fast as she could manage. His weight pulled her down and her legs ached from the exhausting effort. Her vision tunneled sharply and through the dark wings starting to wrap around the edges of her vision she saw the small, bright dot that could only be the moon through the hole in the ice above them. She was desperate for air but her arms were firmly locked around his chest.

Her self-preservation begged her to drop him, but something in her screamed in protest – he was too important for her to let go of him.

She broke the surface with a loud gasp, the cold air hurting her throat but she pulled his head out of the water as she struggled for the edge of the ice. It broke further under their weight but she eventually managed to haul Dante to shore with a lot of effort and cussing. Her entire body ached but she was more worried about him. He wasn’t breathing and in her panic and hypothermia-induced daze, she wasn’t sure what to do.

Dante had lost consciousness well before she ever reached him. His throat was full of water and his body numb from the cold. He couldn't see or hear anymore and was losing all sense of time and space very quickly. All he was aware of was a vague sensation of floating, although he wasn’t sure if he was upside down or not. Clinging to the edge of self-awareness was a really strange feeling and made him wonder about things he’d never thought of before – like his own mortality. He’d always sort of accepted he’d die young.  

He felt himself falling into cold and silence. He knew he was falling fast, though he didn't know for how long or even which way he was falling.

He had enough presence of mind to know that he had to _stop_ the fall. But he had no sense of his body, or where he was, just a vague darkness. He wondered if he should let himself fall. Maybe the lakebed would be a nice, quiet place to rest. Rest from all the horrible memories, the fighting, the constant roving and the sense of being forever… haunted. It was so tempting. But something wasn’t letting him go, yet. It was a curious feeling, somebody holding his hand in the dark, although the feeling was no human sensation that he ever knew of.

 _“So what now?”_ he thought abstractly. _“This is the end?”_

Suddenly, some warmth cracked the monotony of the cold. He felt something… no, _someone_ trying to pull him back. But he was slipping. So he fought back, clinging to that shred of warmth in the nothingness. The fall continued regardless, the pull towards the dark and the silence. He had the horrible feeling that somehow, he had slipped right through the hands of someone trying to draw him back. He reached for that warmth desperately and thought he heard his name being called. A crushing indecisiveness pervaded him: Let himself to the fall or claw his way back?

He was certain he heard his name now and suddenly the dark and the silence, regardless of how restful they sounded, was an all too unappealing choice. He wanted the warmth. Fear knocked him around. The silence cracked, glasslike, and started to crumble. The numbness started to break and cold, merciless cold invaded him, the air stung against his wet skin. Something warm was pressed against him, he felt pressure on his chest. The sound of his lazily beating heart and the wind was the first thing he heard. The dark flickered. Light tried to break through, colors and shapes tried to invade the dull nothingness. His chest burned, like it wanted to explode. He needed… he needed air. He felt like being thrust into a concrete wall face first.

“…te! …ake…u…!”

The voice cracked the throbbing, lingering silence. His chest hurt worse and the pressure there continued, thump, thump, thump.

How long had it been since he stopped breathing?

Clarity arrived, hard and merciless. His throat convulsed and his chest twisted hard, water spewing from his mouth as he coughed harshly. Precious, biting cold air rushed in his lungs and he drew big, greedy mouthfuls of it with loud, ragged gasps. His eyes snapped open and he heard Tess shriek in surprise. He felt dizzy and sick and his vision was bleary and swimmy but he absently realized that he was alive.

“Dante!!” Tess blurted before she grabbed hold of his coat’s lapels to pull him into sitting up.

He coughed a bit more, then blinked a couple of times and focused on her. She looked like hell, soaked to the bone. She’d crumbled to her knees and stared at him in shock, delight, relief—all together and she croaked out syncopated, nervous little laughs that sounded like they were trying to mask an urge to burst into tears or scream.

“Holy shit,” she mumbled. “Dante, you—are you—can you stand?” she stuttered, grabbing his shoulders.

She trembled so badly Dante thought she might fall right over. He couldn’t speak, he choked and gasped for air, eyes locked on hers with a startled and even scared look that must have been as bad as hers; he was still grappling with the fact that he nearly died.

“What did you do…!?” he blurted between coughs.

“You were drowning,” she replied. “Do you remember?”

“Chernobyl bum-rushed me into the ice,” he said. “You… you saved my ass?” he choked.

She nodded nervously and seemed to realize the height of folly of the feat she’d just pulled off. He suddenly pulled away from her and stood up, holding out his hand.

“C’mon, let’s get outta here before you freeze to death,” he said, trying to hide his shaking and attempted to laugh it off. But his laugh came out nervous and his joke was mumbled. “D’I get the kiss of life for my trouble, at least?”

Tess blinked up at him and then frowned in irritation and looked like she really might cry – if she wasn’t already. She grabbed his hand and pulled herself up angrily, making a choked noise. For a moment he thought she was going to tackle him into the snow but instead she rushed in and… hugged him. Threw her arms around his neck, buried her face in his chest and squeezed, almost sobbing.

“No!! You jerk – you idiot!! You and your stupid jokes! You scare me half to death and you have the gall to make your stupid jokes!” she bawled, while clinging to him. “I thought you were going to die!! I had a vision—I knew you were—Shut _up_!”

Dante stood rooted on the spot, arms frozen mid-motion as Tess clung to him and sobbed. He felt really awkward and his mind had gone numb. Slowly, gently, he wrapped his arms around her back, not sure what else to do. He realized, to his shock that this… was the first time someone cried _for him_ in a long time. Someone worried. Someone cared. Someone—

She was shaking violently, he realized.

 _“She must be freezing,”_ he told himself.

“Hey Twig—it’s okay. I’m okay. I’m… I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Hey, we got time for this later, you need to get somewhere warm,” he added, releasing her. “I can carry—“

Her skin was a deathly pale and her lips were turning a bruised blue but she shook her head quickly. “N-no, you don’t—don’t need to. You n-nearly drowned. I c-can still walk,” she stuttered, her jaw rattling. She tugged at his coat. “Pick up th-that meatc-cleaver of yours and l-let’s g-go home.”

Dante managed a wry smile. _Home_. Yeah, that sounded right. “You got it.”

He found his sword, its fire now extinguished, sticking point down into the ground just a foot away from the lake’s frozen shore and grabbed it. He stopped, staring at the hole in the ice for a moment. It looked so eerie, even by his standards, dark against the pale ice, yawning open like the sagged jaw of a corpse. She… really jumped into that hell hole to get him out. The thought of it all made him shiver suddenly.

She could’ve _died_. She could have died, and it would be like—

 _“Shit. Someone would’ve died for my sake,_ again _. Like mom. Dammit, Tess,”_ he thought. _“Not you too, Twig. Not you too. Nobody needs to die for me again. Ever.”_

He whipped back around and hurried after her as she staggered towards home in the dark, both fighting exhaustion and frozen clothes. The cold, though not as merciless as the unnatural frost created by Chernobog, was still getting to them both. He caught up with her as she passed through the wrecked park gates and without any prompting he slid his arm around her waist to keep her steady and walking. To keep her close.

Tess walked slowly, arms crossed over her chest, shivering; she looked exhausted but her eyes were focused and she was concentrating very hard on putting one foot in front of the other. He thought she might’ve looked a bit overwhelmed at her own accomplishments today.

And surely enough, eventually she spoke. “We… we killed Ch-Chernobog,” she said, amazed at her own words. “We k-k-killed a big deal d-demon. Holy shit. I m-m-mean, _you_ k-killed him. B-But st-still—that’s—a-amazing…wow,” she stuttered. She sounded both awed and excited. “You r-r-really k-killed a bigass d-demon.”

Dante croaked a tired laugh. He didn’t feel particularly heroic right then; in fact, both of them looked pretty darn pitiful. His own voice was shaky from the cold. “That a compliment, Tess?” he scoffed.

She laughed just as awkwardly and looked away. They were both walking in a rather slow, drunken pace now.

“I mean… look at you. I dunno what you did with my sword. It’s a demonic weapon and you… you gave it some oomph back there,” he chuckled. “Really cool. I guess I know why demons want to eat witches now.”

She laughed nervously. “I a-actually c-can’t b-believe it worked.” Then her eyes seemed to go a bit wide. “B-because I d-d-don’t think it sh-should’ve. W-witches c-c-c-an’t… do that s-sort of th-thing f-for demons and th-their artifacts.”

She sounded surprised. Dante smiled wryly. “You did it, Twig. And on top of that…” he felt himself turning glum. “You saved my ass. Remember how you got so pissed that you sorta owed my old man? I’d say this pays it back tenfold.”

She grunted tiredly but still elbowed him a bit. “Sh-shut up about th-that,” she muttered. “Th-that’s bullshit. Y-You were f-fucking drowning. H-How d-dare you b-bring up th-th-that silly sh-shit now. Y-you’re n-not s-some k-kinda d-debt c-collector, you’re m-my f-fucking _friend_ , okay? W-we’ve b-been th-through e-enough sh-shit together!” she rambled, disoriented from the cold. “I d-don’t want you… t-to g-go like that!”

Dante looked down and then away for a moment as she rambled and tried to hide his rather impish grin. He was relieved that even when evidently suffering from hypothermia she was still feisty and hard-headed. He honestly liked that about her. Honest to a fault, really. It _almost_ made him feel guilty again for all the teasing he subjected her to.

“You love me,” he said cheerfully.

He didn’t care if he was being childish, he was certain it was true and he was just being Dante again, and felt relieved she was still there to be teased. She’d just said she liked having him around and that’s all he cared about.

She growled vaguely as they stumbled along. “S-Shut up,” she said sharply. “I-I w-want m-my bed—and n-no, y-you c-can’t j-join m-me!”

He caught her _smiling_ when she said that and grinned. But then her sass was cut from a hard cough that sounded like it came straight from her throat. Dante was forced to remind himself that they were both probably mildly hypothermic to say the least. He steadied her as another cough wracked her and frowned.

“Alright, I get it, try to take it easy. Just breathe. We’ll be home soon,” he muttered.

She nodded and allowed herself to lean into him as they trudged home but all the way she coughed and her breathing sounded ragged. When she sneezed Dante had to bite back a laugh because she had a kind of small, adorable sneeze like a kitten. All the while though, he was worried. She was trembling so badly that he had the temptation to pick her up in his arms and _run_ the last half back to the boarding house, but he was afraid she might set him on fire.


	13. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where a witch has a bad cold and Dante has some unusual thoughts.

It took Dante and Tess quite a while to get back to their familiar neighborhood; they’d been through so much that walking alone became an ordeal, especially for Tess. When they reached the boarding house it was nearly three in the morning. Even before they reached the front door, Dante looked up and saw Roy’s outline against the lit doorway, waiting for them. It was hard to discern his expression until he got closer, but his restlessness gave away agitation. He wasn’t sure how the familiar would greet them; Dante felt that if nothing else, they’d _really_ kick him out now. He was not as proud of himself as he’d thought he’d be, either, having felled Chernobog. He just wanted to get Tess some help.

She wasn’t well. She had great difficulty walking and more or less stumbled along supported almost entirely by him. Her hands were stiff and her fingers and lips were turning a bruised blue. She had outright refused to be carried and tried her hardest to walk but Dante had kept his arm around her waist to make sure she wouldn’t faceplant. He’d actually warmed up soon enough, owing to his half-demonic fortitude but no matter what, Tess seemed to just get colder and colder.

On second thought, maybe Roy would skin him alive.

Roy couldn’t wait for them at the doorstep. As they approached, Dante saw him finally tear down the front steps, biting his lips anxiously. He was deathly pale and had a strange expression, both worried and relieved and perhaps, a little angry. When he reached them, he immediately seized them by an arm each and hauled them up the steps and into the building, all the while stuttering a bit.

“Thank the stars, you’re back and in one piece,” he quavered. “I wanted to come out to find you when I realized you’d both done a legger but Magda wouldn’t—oh mercy you’re both wet to the bone and frozen! Why wasn’t I more vigilant?”

In the lobby, Magda came forward to meet them from the lounge, holding towels. She tried to look calm, but her look was sharp and anxious. Dante thought she hadn’t slept and it showed on her pinched face with the tightened jaw and the thin lips.

“Dry yourself out. There is hot coffee in the kitchen,” she told Dante dryly, extricating Tess from him and shoving a towel into his chest.

Was it just him… or was Magda _afraid_ of him?  

It was a momentary impression only, because Magda proceeded to drag Tess away from him, rid her of her sodden coat and hurriedly wrapped her in a big towel, against the girl’s weak protests. Then she used another towel to vigorously dry Tess’ hair. The old woman tried to look rigid but her lips were trembling and it sounded like she was fighting to keep her voice even.

“You’ll be ill after this,” she said sharply. “Headstrong, foolish girl. I don’t want to know what you did exactly – you’ve nearly been actively _seeking your death_ these past few weeks.”

Tess weakly tried to pry her grandmother off her. “Grams,” she croaked. “Stop—“

“You foolishly think you’re invincible—“

“I don’t—“

“—I’ve warned you over and over. I don’t care what you believe you achieved, this was reckless folly.”

Dante almost felt like going over and fending the old woman off her, even as Roy managed to get his sword and sodden coat off him and drape a towel over his shoulders. But after what they’d just survived he felt unwilling to start anything now. After all, he was most likely going to get ousted and for once in a long time… the prospect was actually quite grim to think about. All he could manage was a sarcastic quip.

“Yeah, Tess. You should’ve left me to drown, can’t have you catching a cold,” he muttered, glaring at the old woman. “I mean, Chernobyl’s dead, you could’ve left me at the bottom of the lake.”

Magda glared back at him when he said that and he thought she might curse him, but then her look again turned afraid. She seized Tess around the shoulders and half-roughly, half-tenderly jostled her up the stairs.

“Come with me,” she snapped. “You need to get warm and dry, immediately.”

Tess put up some weak resistance but was summarily bundled up the stairs, just looking at Dante over her shoulder tiredly. She seemed to dread the prospect of being stuck with Magda for any amount of time and he actually felt kinda sorry for her. They broke away at the same time because Dante felt Roy’s gaze right in the side of his head. The old man was gently trying to usher him into the lounge with a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Come with me, you need something hot and a change of clothes,” he said firmly. “And we need to talk,” he added more quietly.

Dante allowed himself to be led away, still glancing back at the stairs.

Tess got hauled straight to the communal bathroom by her grandmother.

“Listen to me,” the old woman hissed, forcing her into the shower stall. She rolled her sleeves back and helped strip the girl from her sodden, cold clothes. “This kind of folly will not be repeated. Do you hear me? I have tolerated many things, but I will not tolerate you recklessly throwing your life away, even if he is Sparda’s son! You will _never_ follow him again.”

“Bugger off, Grams!” Tess started, breaking into another coughing fit as her wet shirt was yanked off her. “You don’t understand! And you don’t—you don’t own me!”

Magda glared at that reply as she tossed the wet clothes aside and set the shower’s water to hot. “I understand enough,” she snapped. “Enough to know that even with your little victory we will need to _leave_ this place. And if you contradict me with your delusional beliefs about your sight—“

“Don’t call me crazy!”

“—or your behavior regarding the half-breed—“

“ _Stop calling_ him that!” Tess shouted, letting her back hit the wall of the shower as the hot water enveloped her and she broke into another coughing fit. “Stop treating him like he’s a freak, behind his back! He doesn’t owe you a fucking thing and he’s gone along with your bullshit demands! He could’ve just told us to deal with it and left! You hate that you don’t control him, isn’t that what this is about? Just like my father. You’re _afraid_ of him!”

Magda froze and stared down at her with a strange look. Both pity and anger. She took hold of the girl’s hands and rubbed her bruised fingers, looking at all the scrapes and cuts on them, washing them clean with water.

“Hate him? No, I don’t. Fear him? I would be a fool if I _didn’t_ ,” she said sharply. “I don’t feel safe. Regardless of what he’s done and whose child he is, he _is_ still half demon. I have seen well enough where dealing with demons leads for our kind. I dealt with one hell-spawn already.”

“Don’t talk about my father like that!” Tess growled at her. The hot water stung on her cold skin and her voice began to crack. “Why is it that you always demean _everyone_ that means something to me!?”

Magda smirked as Tess stepped out of the shower, still wobbly. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you seem partial to him,” she said with a kind of dry and quiet savagery.

Tess froze in the motion of taking a towel from the linen closet. “Well he doesn’t think I’m half that bad! He doesn’t think I’m crazy—“ she snarled, wrapping herself in the towel.

Magda draped another one across her shoulders. “Because he doesn’t understand,” she said and Tess suddenly blinked at the worried look Magda gave her. “What has happened – no, what _is_ happening here is beyond any of us. We don’t know anything. Simply because you felled a demon has brought us no answers and solved nothing. He puts you in more danger than either of you realize.”

Tess just stared at her, trying to understand, her mind turning in circles endlessly but going nowhere, owing to her exhaustion and illness. Magda suddenly cupped her cheek, unexpectedly tenderly.

“Now you need to sleep. Get dressed and go to bed. You’ve been through more than enough for one day,” she said quietly and her voice trembled.

Shaken and feeling the consequences of her exertions bearing down on her hard, Tess allowed Magda to usher her out of the bathroom and to her room, where she helped Tess dress. Tess was too tired to raise any protests and felt she was starting to run a fever. She climbed into her bed and the moment she did, she felt her strength just drain out of her. She was shivering and wanted to sleep, so Magda left her to do so.

Meanwhile, Dante allowed Roy to usher him into the lounge, even though he was pretty sure this might mean he was about to get thrown out of the boarding house for putting Tess in so much danger – if not worse. Still, he wanted to know what Roy had to say about all this.

Before anything, Roy coaxed him out of his wet clothes and handed him a set of dry clothes from Dante’s own laundry after running to the basement, then wrapped him in a big towel. Dante put up with it because he was frankly rather bemused to get fussed over. Roy pushed him into a chair next to the warm radiator and poured hot coffee into a mug which he shoved into Dante’s cold hands. The old man then drew up a chair opposite him and sat down as Dante took a grateful sip of the warming beverage. Roy then leaned forward with his hands on his thighs, looking at him in anticipation.

“Well, then. How did it go?” he asked, surprisingly expectantly. “Did you get the bastard?”

When Roy dropped that little bombshell, Dante nearly choked on his coffee, sputtering it a bit. He had definitely not expected the djinn to actually _approve_ of their reckless behavior. Taking caution in his choice of words, he silently wondered if it was a trap. He spoke slowly, sipping his coffee between sentences. The warm liquid trickled down his throat and made him realize how cold he’d been and just how exhausted he felt.

“Yeah. We got him. We got him good,” he said carefully.

Instead of getting mad or otherwise disapproving or even aggressive, Roy actually looked a little _excited_. He smacked his hand onto his knee and grinned.

“ _Ahah_! Good! Excellent! Best news in ages,” he chuckled, rubbing his chin. “I was worried when you snuck out and Tess then almost broke her neck to follow you. Yes, I knew where you two were heading, I'm not a halfwit,” he added as Dante spluttered.

“You did?! Then why the hell—“

“Did I not stop you?” Roy quipped. “I wanted to. Magda panicked, wouldn’t let me leave the building. But really… _could_ I have stopped either of you? You'd probably run me over and Tess…would've just given me a lot of trouble and held it over me forever. No, that wouldn't be fair for either of you.”

“ _Fair!?_ ” Dante echoed, somewhat indignant. “We almost got ourselves killed; you could’ve—I don’t know— _done something_?”

Roy scoffed. “Answer honestly, would you have wanted me to?”

Dante made to answer vehemently but then looked back on how he felt during the fight. He had been highly agitated and determined to fell that demon. He had been angry, practically high on the excitement of combat, the elation of the sheer demonic urge to battle and prevail, the rush from the pain of his injuries. And he would’ve really gotten furious if someone other than Tess had interfered – he and Tess were partners for that fight, it was _their_  fight and no one else’s.

“No,” he was forced to concede.

“There you have it. You’d both have whined afterwards that I was babying you. Magda wasn’t happy, but I felt you both needed a test, as harsh as this was,” Roy said. “I was a bit reluctant to get in the way.”

“You just let us go? You told me all that stuff about Chernobyl and still let us go?” Dante said incredulously.

Roy smiled guiltily. “Well… that and I rather had no choice. While you kids were out we had a little… incursion.”

Dante started, looking at him in alarm. “Something tried to get in? The house?”

“No, not the house, just the outer protective circle. It was almost breached. I…felt it take,” the djinn said seriously. “It was one of those madmen. But you know, now that I’ve run up against one properly… something felt… strange about him.”

Dante felt his heart sink to his feet. The thought that something might’ve broken into their home, their sanctuary, while he was out both terrified and enraged him. “What happened?” he asked sharply.

Roy breathed out. “The circle held; we’re alright for now. But I felt an eye on us – like the one on the bugger’s chest,” he growled. “Chernobog being out of the picture should help but I’m still not entirely sure,” Roy said, rubbing his chin. “We’ll have to see.”

Dante nodded grimly. “Let’s hope it all quiets down,” he said and sipped more coffee.

“I really wasn’t happy to let you kids go out there, but it dawned on me that this was possibly the only way it would all end well. Judging by the outcome, I suppose I was a bit _too_ optimistic but still,” Roy snorted. “I don’t really care about your indignation, but Tess… no, thank you, I’d rather not feel her scathing displeasure for the next decade.”

Dante scowled at him and scoffed with sarcasm. “Sure thing, old man.”

“There’s a further thing,” Roy continued. “I’ve felt for a while now that you two needed to let these demons know you weren’t a pair of easy marks. I won’t always be there to come barreling in. And pardon my old-fashioned confidence, but you sure as hell can fight. And I suppose Tess is finding her stride at last.”

He leaned forward and patted Dante on the shoulder amicably. Dante felt a little embarrassed; Roy was actually proud of him. “I’m happy with how this turned out, and happy you’re both alright. Aren’t you?”

Dante shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck and finishing his coffee. “I guess,” he said hesitantly.

Roy offered a hesitant smile. “I hope you’re not angry at me.”

Dante grimaced and shrugged. “I don’t know, old man, I guess not, when you put it like that. Dunno about Tess though.”

He was careful to maintain a poker face about it all but he was fairly pleased that Roy actually approved of his and Tess’ prerogative, even if it had nearly gotten them killed.

“Hey Roy… I need to ask you something,” he said quietly.

Roy tilted his head but then gestured at him to go on. Dante sat back, feeling embarrassed. “You, uh… you were right. About me losing my head.  When I was fighting that frosty bastard I just… I got carried away. I could barely control myself. It all just kept coming and I couldn’t… really stop it,” he said quietly. “I knew what I was doing… like instinct.”

Roy listened to him without interruption and just studied him in silence when he finished. He let a small sigh and rubbed his chin. “I expected something like this. You’re getting stronger as you get older, that’s all there is to it,” he said gently. “But… I wouldn’t give your demonic half _all_ the credit for these outbursts.”

Dante looked up, eyebrows creeping up his forehead in silent question.

Roy leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful as he glanced at the ceiling momentarily. “I’ve long suspected that… there’s a presence in the city. Not Chernobog, something else, and it might’ve spoken to you through him,” he said ponderously. “I’ve been wondering whether whatever’s been driving everyone to violence was getting to you.”

“I’m not going nuts,” Dante blurted quickly.

Roy frowned and shook his head. “No, no, I never said you were, Dante,” he reassured him. “But whether we like it or not, it _is_ a demonic influence, you’re bound to react to it. I’m just hopeful… that you seem to be able to muster control of yourself. I just hope you’ll always be able to maintain that clarity later. You’re only going to get stronger, you know.”

Dante shuddered momentarily and was unable to hide it or suppress it. The thought unsettled him. If he was getting this out of control as a youngster who hadn’t even hit his peak yet, what would happen to him later? He wasn’t even sure he wanted to contemplate it – he always avoided that thought but now he felt like he had no choice but to face reality, for once, and come to terms with it all. The last thing he wanted was to become like the demons he was so set on destroying.

Roy seemed to be picking his words carefully. “Listen… you can’t begin to doubt yourself now,” he said gently. “It’s true that you’ll get stronger as you get older and your powers will grow. You learn skills fast. What you _need_ is experience. And that means you have to accept that you will need to learn about your demonic power. Control doesn’t mean ‘suppress’, after all; it means _control_ and you can only do that if you know what it feels like. Don’t be afraid to _learn._ It’s the only thing that will help you.”

Dante eyed him carefully and scowled a bit, feeling like Roy might’ve been studying him a bit too closely. “Dammit, stop looking at me like that, I’m okay,” he blurted. “I’m not going to lose it.”

Roy smiled kindly. “I know. I have faith in you, but I just want you to be aware,” he chuckled.

Dante grumbled quietly and sipped more of his warm coffee, thinking it over. No control, just like demons he was used to fighting was a disconcerting thought. As much food for thought as Roy had given him, he didn’t want to continue this conversation any longer so he swiftly changed the subject.

“Hey, guess what Tess did! She was pretty awesome herself,” he said, rather more brightly than he felt.

He took another sip of coffee and then put the cup down on the table beside him so he could start drying his hair. “She uh, kinda charged my sword with fire! The whole blade was burning. She said that’s normally impossible. Isn’t that kinda awesome?”

Roy was startled. “Wait—what?!” he blurted, flabbergast. “She did? That’s… that _is_ impressive. And peculiar. She’s right, it shouldn’t have happened. Witches can fight demons but unless they’ve… made terrible pacts with demons, their powers cannot coexist. Water and oil, in a sense. It’s the nature of demons to devour any power they subjugate,” he said, rubbing his stubble. “It’s… amazing she managed that.”

Dante blinked. Roy’s face was hard to read but Dante felt there might’ve been a hint of worry there. He had to choose his next words carefully. “So… how do you think she did it?”

He was careful not to mention how having that power offered _felt._ He resisted a pleasurable shiver at the memory of the fire coursing through him, like the sweetest high, warm and exhilarating and utterly _exciting_. Perhaps a bit too much.

Roy shrugged thoughtfully. “I’m not certain,” he admitted. “I won’t lie to you, son, as long as I’ve spent around witches, Tess has managed to present me with a lot of unknowns. Her power to control fire isn’t wiccan; it’s the remnants of her father’s fey nature so it’s… it’s quite a wildcard. I suppose that’s why it doesn’t care what it’s up against.”

He rubbed his chin again. “I just… never thought she had it in her to do such advanced stuff.”

Dante scoffed. “Bet Magda’s going to lose it when she hears about it. Gonna have to take back all the shit she’s been giving her.”

Roy chuckled. “Yes, she’ll have to reconsider it all,” he hooted. “She won’t like it. Come on, tell me what else happened. I’d like to know the details.”

Dante hesitated, his mirth shrinking and narrowed his eyes doubtfully.

“I’m not going to get mad,” Roy assured him. “I _am_ a bit angry at you twerps just rushing off into this but I won’t punish either of you. But we need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Dante nodded and told him of what had occurred as best he could. It was difficult to remember some details as everything had happened so fast and he had been fighting against his own bloodlust at the time, blurring his recollections. Roy groaned and palmed his forehead when Dante finally got to his near-drowning and Tess’ rescue of him – what he remembered, anyway. Roy called them both fools but his tone expressed concern and worry rather than anger.

 _“If anything… it’s nice of him to worry about my stupid ass…”_ Dante thought and actually felt a bit guilty to worry the old man.  

“I don’t like this,” the djinn huffed. “It really does sound like Chernobog was being used by something else as a mouthpiece.”

Dante nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but it seemed to like ticking me off,” he grumbled, tugging the towel off his head. “Chernobog was easy, just angry as all hell. But the other thing… I dunno.”

Roy smiled mirthlessly. “Yes. I expect so. Chernobog would naturally be angry. He was being _invaded_. Not just his territory, but himself.”

“What _is_ that thing, anyway?” Dante asked.

“I’m not sure, Dante. I could think of a few things, one worse than the other, but I don’t have a better answer for you,” Roy said and shook his head. “Save to say that I’m glad you took Chernobog down. He was a potent bastard even without this… takeover and it’s for the best that he’s not prowling around anymore.”

Dante frowned. “You don’t think it’s over, huh?”

“No, of course not,” Roy groused. “Whatever this thing is, it’s sniffed out a pair of witches. It’s a feeding frenzy waiting to happen. That’s probably why they’ve been crawling around for a while, the Bloodgoyles and these… madmen we’ve been seeing. The protection circle is keeping us safe for now but not forever. Used to hide us, but… I think we’re past that now.”

Dante frowned. That wasn’t good.

But then Roy looked him up and down and smiled. “You know… you’ve really surprised me. I know I gave you a hard time but you… have a lot more potential than I thought. I hope you never lose that,” he said gently and stood up.

Dante smiled stiffly. “Told you, old man,” he sighed.

Being appreciated was… still new to him. He felt a little embarrassed but wasn’t going to show that.

Roy just chuckled. “Yes, I’m glad you’ll be around to remind me. Now… go upstairs, get a hot shower and change into something warm. Go sleep. I don’t care for excuses; you and Tess are both knackered. She’s certainly going to be sick and I don’t need you to be out of it at the same time. Food’s on me tomorrow, alright?”

Dante smiled tiredly and got up to gather his discarded things. “Thanks, Roy,” he said, then headed upstairs, yawning.

Roy patted his back as the boy passed him. “Don’t worry too much about Magda, either. She won’t dare kick you out now. Try to get some rest for a day or two before we start worrying about the future. And you know… I may not have known your father much but I suspect he might’ve loved this,” he joked.

Dante smiled despite himself as he made for the stairs. He’d rarely given his father any thought but… the idea that he might’ve been proud of Dante was unexpectedly nice. Just as he started up the stairs he saw Magda appear at the top of the stairs, on her way down. She started to slowly descend them and then stopped, hand on the railing as their gazes met. The old woman’s look was pinched and tired and when it lingered on him, her brow creased, as though she wasn’t sure what to do. Finally she nodded briefly and came down the stairs, very dignified and stern.

Dante frowned. She looked so uptight and almost angry. “Hey. Is Tess alright?” he asked her pointedly.

The old woman stopped and glanced back. “She’ll be ill, but there is no danger,” she said quietly.

Dante sulked a bit, his mood dampened by her attitude. “Good to hear,” he muttered, too tired to really argue.

“Wait,” she said.

Dante stopped with a foot on the steps and looked over.

Magda was still not looking him in the eye. “Thank you. For ridding us of that demon. I wish it were the end of our troubles.”

Dante blinked and then shrugged. “Yeah,” he muttered and walked upstairs to get some sleep. He briefly thought of getting a peep at Tess, to see how she was doing but then he thought better of it and decided to let her rest. He was starting to feel tired and sluggish himself so all he could think of now was a hot shower and his bed.       

Back downstairs, Magda wearily returned to her rooms, settling by the fireplace again with her shawl tightly wrapping her shoulders. That’s where Roy found her, staring into the fire with an air of offended dignity, when he wandered in to see to her.

“Well then… Tess is going to be sick, isn’t she?” he asked coolly.

“Yes,” Magda replied absently. “I will have to prepare some medical draughts for her. It would be troublesome if he suffers of pneumonia again.”

“Hmph, they’re both lucky they’re not dead,” Roy grumbled.

Magda stared at him suddenly. “Luck has nothing to do with it,” she quavered.

Roy stared her down calmly.

“We don’t know what awaits us in the coming days,” she carried on. “And we stand alone. I don’t… I don’t like that we depend on you and him so much. It’s dangerous.”

“Magda, stop,” Roy sighed. “I’ve dealt with you long enough and I still don’t understand you. You know I don’t take sides. The only reason I think the kids are in the right is because we _need_ to do something and for pity’s sake it’s been about time.”

Magda stared back and her eyes narrowed. “You think I tried to ignore the presence of demons in the city for too long.”

“I do. And so did I and it’s biting us in the ass,” Roy grunted. “I know you don’t like it, but _I_ think Dante’s influence is doing Tess good. You may not care, but she’s stepped out of her bubble – a bubble _you_ forced her into. You can resent her all you want, Magda, but she’s not under your thumb.”

“Under my thumb?” Magda snarled, tired. “Tess has barely listened to me over the years—“

“You never gave her reason to,” Roy snapped. “Listen, Magda, you know full well that I only pay mind to what you say because of a _promise_ I made to a dead young woman whom you tried to quash. Tess wanted you to love her and maybe you do, but it wouldn’t hurt you to show it to her now and then. You can’t bring whatever grudge you hold about her father down on her.”

He even pointed at her accusingly. “Magda, I’ve known you for years. You lost both Sergio and Sophie to demons. You were always a bit neurotic but you’ve turned too bitter for your own good.”

“Do not bring up my husband,” Magda croaked. “Sergio started this mess with the way he ousted his family from the coven they’d founded--! And Tess… I’ve tried, Roy. I can’t… I can’t let go of the memories. What her father did to me—“

“Erik wanted redemption. Sophie understood. All you saw was a criminal. And I never blamed you for feeling it all too raw to just forgive him. But Tess deserves better,” Roy snapped. “I’ve pleaded you over and over to stop taking it out on her.”

Magda frowned but there was something very tired and sad about her. She just looked away into the dying fireplace again and sighed. “I’m tired,” she said and stood up wearily to go sleep.

The next day found the boarding house to be unusually quiet and sedate. It seemed that everyone had been exhausted by the night’s events and Dante found himself sleeping till almost 2 in the evening. To his mild amazement, he was still sore all over and felt out of sorts even after his long sleep, but he was sure he felt better than Tess would. Famished and with the prospect of just kicking back and relaxing for the rest of the day, he lazily rolled out of bed and got dressed. After washing his face and properly waking up, he thought about checking on Tess. He stepped out of his room again and made sure Magda or Roy were nowhere in sight before he moseyed over to her door.

He didn’t knock, thinking she shouldn’t get up. Hoping to find the door unlocked, he gave it a try. Feeling the knob turn all the way and hearing it click, he smiled. He carefully stepped into her room – her little kingdom. He was always curious about what Tess’ room looked like, having never seen it fully.

It was more or less the same size as his, maybe even a little smaller. It was a bit cozier too – the kind of room a girl doesn’t quite expect a boy to enter. He dodged around a small couch much like his own, draped with clothes and some magazines. The walls had some posters – bands and classic artworks, and her windows had dusty blue curtains, drawn shut. A rice-paper lamp fixture hanging low from the ceiling gave off a warm glow with a dream catcher with black, glossy feathers and a clear stone hanging off it. Books lined a couple of shelves on the other wall and a pile of yet more books and magazines sat against the window next to the bed, along with a night-table.

“Tess?” he spoke softly.

He heard the ruffle of covers and the soft groan of a mattress as the bed clothes moved. “Hi…” she said weakly, her throat sounding ragged.

He walked towards her bed and she sat up, putting away a book. An empty mug with a spoon sat on her night-table beside the books. He chuckled a bit to see her embarrassed face; she was very pale but her cheeks were red and she sniffled dramatically.

“ _Guh_ , don’t get too close, I’m a mess! You wanna catch this plague?” she croaked, coughing.

She pulled her covers up to her nose, fidgeting in frustration. She looked like roadkill and Dante smiled at her mussed bed-hair. She wore pajamas – all Dante could see was an oversized shirt that drooped at the shoulder. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she sniffled a lot and coughed; she suddenly snatched a box of tissues that’d been sitting beside her pillow and hid it under the covers. She looked away, embarrassed to be found in such a pitiful condition.

“I hate being sick,” she groaned.

Dante breathed a sigh of relief as he found her looking better than he feared she’d be after that death-defying plunge into the frozen lake and her subsequent brush with hypothermia. He smiled warmly, not his usual smarmy grins.

“Heh, don’t worry,” he said. “I haven’t been sick since I was like, three.”

He approached and finally sat down on the bed near her knees. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “You know, Twig… I didn’t thank you for getting me out of the drink. I would’ve been fish food if you hadn’t. So…thanks,” he muttered. “And I was kinda worried about you now,” he added sheepishly.

Tess groaned and sank further into her blanket. Dante was sure she was blushing. “You’re, uh,  welcome. Thank you for not dying on me,” she replied shyly. “We cut it so close. Don’t worry about me, it’s just a bad cold,” she added and coughed. “How about you, feeling alright?”

He grinned. “Sore, but fine!” He really felt sorry for her – after all, she was more or less going through this for saving his bacon. “So… anything I can do for you?” he offered.

Tess sniffled and shook her head then suddenly ducked under her covers and grabbed her tissue box, proceeding to sneeze several times in a row. Dante resisted the urge to laugh and just sheepishly blessed her until she recovered. She sniffled again and blew her nose under the covers before peeking out again. She sounded wretched, with a raw throat and blocked nose.

“Thanks but I’m good,” she muttered. “I just want to sleep forever. Grams has been feeding me these awful medicinal potions.”

She made an expression like she wanted to vomit and she stuck her tongue out.

Dante offered a commiserating smile. “Alright. At least Roy’s not gonna skin us for all this. Can you believe he kept me up half the night to hear the whole sordid thing?” he tutted. “He’s uh… he’s proud of ya. Didn’t think you had it in you to do that stuff with my sword.”

She snorted and then coughed again, covering her mouth. "Yeah, trust Roy to get all excited about this. I knew he was going to drop that strict act sooner or later. Frankly, I think he _is_ kinda pissed at us, but he's probably too relieved we're back in one piece to whine,” she said with a small sigh. “You know, I had no idea it was going to work. You were a complete guinea pig. I bet Grams is seething because she doesn’t understand how I did it.”

He chuckled and they fell silent for a moment. He figured she was as awkward as he was and thought it better to let her rest. He patted her shoulder softly.

“You know, Twig… I make a lot of cracks about your size and all but uh… guess the joke’s on me now,” he said and stood up, then slowly made his way to the door. “Feel better, will ya? Hunting down demons won’t be fun without ya.”

She chuckled hoarsely. “Try not to get killed in the meantime,” she joked tiredly.

“You got it, Twig. I’m off to eat. See ya, bones.”

He closed the door behind him softly and headed downstairs, feeling more cheerful now that he had assured himself she wasn’t that badly off. He was still feeling a bit sore but decided to just relax and recuperate. He smelled something highly appetizing as he neared the lounge and smiled. He walked in to find Roy standing over a pot on the stovetop, humming and cooking.

“’Morning. Another masterpiece, old timer?” Dante said, grinning.

Roy looked up and smiled. “Good morning. I’ve been doing this cooking thing too long,” he jested. “Have you seen Tess? She’s got one hell of a nasty cold, doesn’t she?”

Dante shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Roy shook his head. “As expected, jumping into that lake. She couldn’t have done better if she was _trying_ to get herself killed.”

Dante suddenly frowned at Roy and his expression turned sour as he drew a chair and parked himself at the table, folding his arms on the surface. “Hey old man, ain’t funny. She risked her life to save my ass, so don’t laugh it up.”

To prevent the djinn from questioning his sudden seriousness about the whole thing, he swiftly changed the subject.

“What’s funny is that Frosty even went down to a couple of kids. I thought he’d be tougher.”

Roy snorted. “Finally, some wisdom from the mouths of babes,” he said. “Yes, it’s odd. I mean, you have potential – and so does Tess. You just need to refine your skills and Tess… well, she’s got more work ahead of her. She seems determined to lean the niceties of being proactive.”

He paused to taste-test his stew and added some salt.

Dante grimaced, watching him move around at perfect ease. “I don’t know, Roy. It feels iffy.”

Roy nodded. “Yes, I won’t argue that. The way I see it, whatever was ‘riding’ Chernobog weakened him enough though their constant battle for control,” he said. “You do realize, I hope, that this is going to give you a certain… notoriety. Demons are just as gossipy as old women, if I understand correctly.”

He turned around and deposited a plate of aromatic beef stew on top of a small mound of mashed potato in front of Dante. “Seems like all of us in this house have the dubious misfortune to be drawn into demons’ affairs whether we like it or not. Your father’s insurgence left a massive power void and warring demons. Anything goes, as far as they’re concerned. So keep your wits about you and don’t do anything foolish.”

Dante sulked even as he poked at his hot food with a spoon. “Me? Foolish? Gimmie more credit, old man,” he mumbled, absently thinking about how he always seemed to be cleaning up his father’s messes – right up to Tess’ initial reservations. “Screw him,” he mumbled, prodding a cooked carrot.

Roy said nothing while filling another bowl with mash potato and stew. He was putting together a tray that Dante assumed was meant for Tess.

“Trees get judged by their fruit, not their roots,” he said quietly, putting a glass of orange juice on the tray. “I’m just glad you’re here to ride this out with us, rather than by yourself. Now eat up and enjoy it, I’m taking this up to Tess.”

Dante hesitated and put his spoon down. His stew was delicious but a bit too hot. He stood up. “Wait—d’you mind if I take it up to her? You look busy and mine’s still too hot,” he offered.

He bit his lip a bit, trying to read Roy’s reaction to the offer. Roy quirked an eyebrow and seemed to be holding back a small laugh. “Heh, very well. But if she’s sleeping, don’t wake her up,” he said and turned to prepare another tray that Dante assumed was for Magda.

Dante just smiled and nodded, carefully picking up the tray from the counter and heading up the stairs back to Tess’ room. He smiled to think of what her reaction might be when he walked in. He hoped it would cheer her up to see him waltz in like a high-class waiter.

He balanced the tray in one hand in order to quietly open the door carefully. He pushed the door open with his shoulder and went inside, his eyes stopping on the curled form on the bed. So she _was_ sleeping. Stepping softly up to her bed, he rested the tray on her nightstand, carefully pushing aside some books and the mug. Looking over, Dante saw her red hair peeking out from under the cover. Her breathing sounded slightly strained but even. He was torn between letting her sleep and waking her up so she’d eat something. He hesitated.

“Don’t wake her.”

Dante nearly jumped with a silent cuss. Magda had spoken gently but suddenly from the door. He whipped around quietly to meet her gaze and against his will, he felt his face get hot. The old woman stood at the doorway, dressed in dark clothing and stared at him very calmly but her appearance looked weary.

“You startled me,” he muttered quietly while staring back bravely.

Magda merely smiled tartly and approached Tess’ sleeping form quietly; the girl slept heavily, likely exhausted from her coughing and sniffling. The old woman’s features seemed to soften as she stood over her granddaughter and gently pulled the blanket more closely over her and moved some hair away of her face. For a moment, there was almost a hint of tenderness in her look.

“Her fever has dropped a little,” she said quietly. “Tell me, you take quite an interest in my granddaughter, don’t you?” she continued, her face stony as she looked at him.

Dante frowned at her tone, fed up with her. Just how resentful was this old woman? She almost sounded like she was pissed that he and the Twig got along – even liked each other.

“And if I do?” he replied equally quietly. “She’s my friend.”

He felt a bit amazed at himself; he never thought he’d be admitting something like this about someone. He tried to never get too attached. People didn’t last around him. And dammit, after all he’d done, you’d think the old bag would finally treat him better but she was all suspicion. Magda instead stood straight, hands clasped over her lap, dignified and unshaken.

“Friend, perhaps, but I worry you’ll prove a fair-weather friend,” she said flatly. “She nearly lost her life assisting you.”

Dante’s eyebrow twitched and he felt like shouting at her. “Well, she _didn’t_. And you don’t need to throw that around like that,” he snapped. “I’m starting to think that given your attitude, she sure as hell _needed_ a friend. You’ve made her feel like garbage.”

Magda scowled at him. “She’s naïve. And ignorant of the ways of the world and the manner of demons. She thinks she can recklessly throw her life away for anyone. She isn’t made for the things you are.”

Dante frowned more. “You don’t even know your own granddaughter,” he growled. “All you see is her father and your grudge and you think she’s a weak little girl. But she’s got more guts and strength than you realize. If you keep pushing her away, it’ll be a lonely end for you.”

He needed to get out of that room before he really lost his temper with this stubborn old bag. He walked out past her as quietly as he could and then went back downstairs, steaming. He wasn’t even sure why he was getting this upset – he’d never cared about others’ family feuds before, his own dysfunctional family was enough for him. But he couldn’t help but think that if Magda had been less irrational, Tess might’ve been better-adjusted.

He was still irritable when he returned to the kitchen, to find his stew sufficiently cooled to really enjoy, even if his mood had soured thanks to Magda. He mumbled quietly as he sat to his lunch.

“Old bag… who does she think she’s talking to?”   

He sat there fuming and eating his food ponderously and was still there when Roy returned to the kitchen. He studied Dante carefully as he went to get some stew for himself.

“Oh dear, that’s a look,” he said. “What happened?”

Dante looked up and then slumped in his chair with his arms crossed, looking off to the side. “Eh… nevermind. Just Magda getting on my nerves.”

Roy sighed. “Ah, as expected. She’s just exhausted and angry. She might be glad that Chernobog’s gone but she’s still worried. She doesn’t want Tess to end up like her mother,” he said, rubbing his chin and setting his place at the table.

Dante grumbled vaguely but welcomed Roy’s company as they ate together. He took the opportunity to ask him about a topic that had been on his mind.

“So… I thought that my… my old man sealed the way between the Underworld and the human world,” he said. “So how come some demons can get through it?”

“Hmm, an interesting question,” Roy replied and paused to think. He broke a piece of bread. “I personally theorize that the seal, though largely effective – and I mean no offence to your father – isn’t perfect. A lot of the smaller demons that need a medium to manifest in the human world kind of… slip through the cracks, as it were.”

“And the powerful ones?” Dante pressed.    

“Mm… well, there’s two possibilities. I think that certain summoning rites can pull them through, if done correctly. One way or another,” Roy said, sopping up some sauce from his plate with bread. “Alternatively… I’ve often thought that some demons might be _stuck_ here when that seal was enacted. In any number of forms or ways.”  

Dante grunted, unsatisfied and nearly stabbed a piece of meat on his plate. “Theories…” he muttered.

Roy smiled wryly. “I know. But I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got. I’m a djinn, Dante, what I know about demons is what I know of my enemies. I’m just as much of a learner as you are.”

Dante grumbled a bit and they ate in silence for a bit until Dante was done. As they sat at the table with Roy finishing his meal, Dante dared to ask Roy something unusual.

“Hey Roy… you know anything about fixing guns?”

Roy wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I have some experience with them. Why?”

“Hold on.”

Dante stood up and made his way upstairs quickly, just to return with his guns. He put them on the table and slid them towards Roy irritably.

“This is why. I got up this morning, went to put my stuff in order and found that Chernobyl managed to damage my guns,” he grumbled.

Roy stared at the guns as they stopped in front of his empty dish. He wiped his hands on a napkin and picked one up to examine it carefully. He turned it over a few times and tutted. “Ow, you poor baby, whatever has he done to you?” he muttered.

He carefully levelled it at the wall and stared down the barrel, seeing a long, thin crack along the top of the barrel, small dents on the slide, bent sight and chipped surface.

He shook his head. “Goodness.”

“No kidding,” Dante said irritably and poking at the gun’s companion still on the table, also chipped and scratched. “This guy looks better, but they could both use some work. I’m good with a sword, but I dunno, I tend to reach for the closest gun when a fight’s coming my way.”

Roy smiled and put the gun down, propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin against his linked fingers, staring at the firearms. “Yes, I see your point. I’ll take care of them. It’s been a while since I dealt with guns but I have the tools I need. I’ll start on them tomorrow. Hopefully this will convince you to stay out of trouble for a bit.”

Dante sulked at him. “Hey, you’re not going to use this as an excuse to make me sit on my ass like a good little boy while you goof off! If you can’t fix ‘em quick I’ll go find myself a gunsmith who will!”

That declaration had a profound effect on Roy, who sat up straight and looked _offended._ He scowled in turn. “A gunsmith!?” he barked. “You won’t find one for miles! And goof off—you think a mere gunsmith’ll fix them sooner than I can? Fine! I’ll go start now and work myself into an early grave!” 

Dante’s eyebrows bowed up as Roy shot up from the chair angrily and snatched both guns, then stomped out of the lounge.

“And you bloody better not interrupt me while I’m working or I’ll nail your head to the wall!”

Dante was left just staring form his seat at the table but then smirked. _“So, the old man’s got buttons after all!”_ he thought.

He felt a bit bad for upsetting him so he made a point of picking up the dishes and actually washing them and setting them aside to dry. Then he hunted around the kitchen to find Roy’s stash of tangerines – he found some chilling in the fridge. He stalked into the basement after Roy, the creaky steps whining under his footfall. The familiar, slightly damp space of the basement opened below, unexpectedly clean as far as basements went. The laundry machines on the corner were silent and clothes were packed in baskets – in all this chaos neither he nor Tess had attended to their laundry much.

Roy’s workbench was in the far corner, behind shelves and Dante saw him standing over the bench, irritably muttering to himself. He had rolled his sleeves back and was starting to disassemble one of the guns. Dante crept up to the shelves and left the tangerines on the shelves, at about eye level.

“Hey… thanks Roy,” he said cheekily.

He then hurried off as a loud cat hiss followed him up the stairs, with a few choice curses. He grinned widely; he’d never get tired of messing around with the old man.     

 


	14. Final Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein a witch attempts and fails to discern the future.

It was several days before Tess was well enough to get out of bed and Dante could completely disregard what he’d been through and get bored enough to go looking for more trouble. Roy’s hopes that without his guns, Dante might cool his heels for a bit proved empty. He couldn’t entirely shake the feeling that there was something still lurking in the corners of the city. The atmosphere hadn’t changed. Yes, things had cooled down, he found no madmen turning into demons, no Bloodgoyles flitting about, observing. But as Dante roamed the streets, he felt the tightness in the air, the edge and tension in the people, like tightly wound gears ready to break.

Tess and Roy’s concerns that Chernobog was only part of the problem were now finding sure footing. It wasn’t just the violence; people were less rational, more aggressive in their dealings and very prone to snapping even over trivial matters. Roy came back from shopping one evening with a horrified look – he’d seen a terrible hit-and-run accident up close and personal. The driver sped off and even though it happened on a busy street, people seemed to be as unconcerned as though the victim had been a rat! News of assaults and other violent crimes multiplied in the news – and that was just the ones that got reported. Reason itself seemed to slip.

Dante had witnessed other such events himself, of people just passing by acts of violence as if they didn’t even see them.

It was like a _disease_.

With little else to do, Dante wandered around the city, searching for signs of what might be happening. He’d inspected the park one last time but there was nothing there anymore. Just a lot of confused city authorities who nevertheless seemed steeped in a kind of haze – and were busy with a city spiralling into arbitrary violence.

Dante got back from his ‘rounds’ late that afternoon, for once his sword bloodied from combat. He stamped his feet on the doormat before going in to get some snow off them – the weather was clearing since Chernobog’s death but there was still a lot of cold and a lot of snow left over.

He was troubled; he’d found another madman at last, wandering in an alley alarmingly close to the house. The moment that thing saw him, it degenerated with alarming rapidity rather than the more gradual change he’d seen before. As if they – and the thing ‘riding’ them – now positively identified him as a threat. Since Chernobog, Magda hadn’t spoken to him much or left her rooms and Roy told him that she was agonizing over whether she ought to take Tess and leave or try once more to summon assistance.

Roy had also told him that between them, Roy thought she might actually be resigning herself to fight back. Dante was very careful not to allow anything to follow him back and every time he walked through the wards of the house now he breathed a sigh of relief. Because they held. He missed Tess’ presence a little but there was no question of her venturing out. Even if she hadn’t been struck down with a bad cold, Magda was too angry and too concerned to allow her to leave the house. And for once, Roy was on board with that. Dante hoped that eventually they’d both let up.

But even if they did, he was left with his own fretting about the whole thing. He’d actually put someone else in danger. That couldn’t be repeated.

He walked into the lobby and stretched tiredly. The lobby was empty so he made his way straight for the stairs. He smelled something funny from the kitchen, like a meal gone terribly wrong. He’d never get used to that, Magda using the communal kitchen to brew whatever vile concoctions she was forcing Tess to take for her cold. Tess always described them in emetic terms but it was hard to deny that she improved rapidly. He’d gone to her room to see her a few times and they talked and plotted.

As Dante reached the floor landing, Tess' door creaked open and she poked her head out. She had bed-hair and was wrapped in a dark purple blanket, but Dante could see a pair of cotton pants and a black sweatshirt under it. She looked pale and coughed a little, but seemed a lot better than she did a couple days ago when she couldn’t even sit up.

“Hey, you’re back,” she muttered. “Wow, you reek of demon guts.”

Dante grimaced at her. “Very funny, Twig.”

She shrugged. “Get a shower and then come up to the attic, I need your help. We uh… need to talk.”

Dante nodded and trudged on, prioritizing a shower over just passing out on his bed. He cleaned off his sword, showered and soon was traipsing up the stairs in fresh clothes to meet her in her little den. If she wanted to talk about something well out of Roy or Magda’s earshot, it must’ve been important.

He stooped and maneuvered himself through the small door on the third floor and up the narrow, steep little staircase to the attic. He found her sneezing just behind the strategically piled furniture, sitting on cushions in front of the low table, blanket still draped over her shoulders.

“Tch, you’re gonna make yourself worse, Twig, hanging out in the cold like this,” he tutted.

“You’re starting to sound like Roy,” she countered.

“Shouldn’t someone?” he fired back tartly.

Still, he grabbed some cushions and threw himself beside her, boldly draping his arm around her shoulders. “So, what’s the deal—what’s this?”

He saw her shuffling a deck of large cards in her hands absently. He plucked one from between her hands and studied the antique illustration of a Three of Clubs, rendered in bold colors.

“Tarot? Really?” he sighed.

“Shut up – gimmie that, I went to a lot of trouble to get it,” she said irritably, snatching the card back.

“Why?” he said and tilted his head.

Tess huffed. “You know Grams gets really irritated about the whole ‘I can see the future’ thing,” the girl groused. “She thinks stuff like Tarot… ‘encourage my delusions’,” she mimicked sarcastically.

Dante frowned. “Yikes.”

“Right? This deck was my mom’s so she hasn’t thrown it out,” Tess sighed. “Mom used it for meditation before she left with my dad. I had to break into Grams’ rooms to steal it, for pity’s sake.”

Dante scoffed. “Desperate, much? How come the old lady didn’t catch ya?”

Tess huffed. “I think… I think she’s properly spooked. She went out to get more things for my cold draughts and I took the chance to nip into her rooms.”

He shook his head with a small snort. “So what, you wanna tell my fortune?”

“Maybe later but first we need to talk. Did Roy tell you about what he saw? Things are getting really weird.” she countered.

“Yeah. And he’s right,” Dante sighed. “I really thought things might quiet down with Chernobyl out of the way. It almost looked like it, too. I hadn’t seen any demonic crazies for a few days and lo and behold, today I ran into one and it looked _pissed._ ”

He grumbled and they both contemplated the implications of that fact. Whatever Chernobog’s ‘rider’ had been, they’d clearly made it very angry.

“I think Roy’s run into a couple more too, when he was out running errands,” Tess said thoughtfully. “He said they might be ‘probing for a soft spot’, or something like that.”

“What does he do when he runs into demons? Kills ‘em, I hope,” Dante asked.

“Well yeah,” she replied. “He’s got his methods; I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen him fight. He tries to keep that stuff away from the house, for obvious reasons.”

She rested her elbow on the table and cupped her chin. “I worry about him. He’s pretty potent but he’s bound himself to the wards around the house and they sap a lot of his power. I wish Grams hadn’t made him do that. She browbeat him into it because they’re both convinced it’s the best way to keep the house safe.”

“Hmmph…” Dante huffed. “That sounds like putting all your eggs in one basket. I need my guns back, darn it, I feel naked without ‘em. Last time I asked him about how the repair’s going, he _snarled_ at me. Said something about missing some parts.”

Tess chuckled. “Don’t give him a hard time, he’s got a lot on his plate with all this. He might half-ass it out of spite. Anyway… I did a bit of reading behind Grams’ back and might have some theories about what to do.”

“I’ll take theories over nothing,” Dante grunted. “I can’t stand this waiting. We know that there’s something lurking around but all it’s done is possess people and even another goddamn demon and try to kill us.”

“Yeah and we’re nowhere closer to finding out how they’re doing it or why – and how the fuck it’s managed to affect the entire city this way,” she said. “I just thought it might be time try to use my goddamn sight in a constructive way.”

Dante scowled. He didn’t like the idea of Tess trying to force her power, as he’d seen the effect it had on her. “Isn’t that risky? What about Magda, can’t she do something? She’s a witch, she should be able to track shit.”

Tess grimaced. “She’s tried. She’s been trying to scry for this hidden thing since we first poked Chernobog, really, but she’s come up dry. She hasn’t got anything to anchor her rites to. This thing is hiding too well. So I thought… maybe my sight is more sensitive.”

“So… what’s your plan?”

“Well… first of all, you agree that these… madmen we’ve been seeing are just sad saps who happen to get possessed by whatever this thing is, right?”

“Sure. They get possessed and turned into demons,” he shrugged. “I think it happens because this thing is too much for human hosts. Like they get eaten… from the inside.”

She nodded. “Right, so you see the pattern.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah… I just couldn’t decide whether it was looking for something or not but now it’s fixated on us. And it’s causing all this shitstorm in the city.”

“Yeah. I think in a way it’s feeding on the chaos that happens. Feeding on the madness it sets off, somehow.”

“If that’s the case, this isn’t some small-time demon. I know demons just being around can make humans act funny but an entire city is a bit much.”

“And we’re stuck right in the middle of it all,” Tess sighed and shuffled the cards absently.

Dante sounded a frustrated grunt. “I hate these kinda cloak-and-dagger demons,” he groused. “Can’t it just come out in the open so we can kill it?”

Tess tilted her head. “What if it _can’t?_ ”

“You know… Roy said something like that. That some demons are trapped,” Dante said, suddenly thoughtful.

“Well, it’d make sense,” she said carefully. “I know the city’s been a battleground for demons before. Someone might’ve… summoned something. Or something broke free.”

“And you propose risking your neck to find out? You always say that your power doesn’t screw you up,” he said irritably.

“It’s still better than sitting on our asses,” she grumbled.

She put the Tarot deck on the small table and reached for a small cloth pouch beside her.

“So how’s it gonna work?” Dante asked dubiously. “You’re gonna just deal ‘em and guess?”

“No, don’t be thick,” she snapped. “The cards sorta help me focus without going ga-ga. They tone the strain down but they’re also pretty vague. Since we’ve both been in contact with this thing, I figure we might be able to form some kind of link to it.”

“Jeez, Twig, you don’t sound like you know what you’re doing,” he observed, frowning.

“And you’d be right. I _wish_ there was some goddamn manual for my power or something,” she sighed. “But I’m pretty sure it’ll work. Do you… uh, trust me?”

She looked at him warily. Dante sighed. He was almost tempted to think she was employing the puppy-eyes technique on him.

“I do, that’s not the problem,” he admitted. “It’s why I’m not deep-freezer fish food at the lake.”

He stretched, finally taking his arm from around her shoulders. “So… what’d I gotta do?”

“Give me a hand with the prep, I’m gonna trace a circle of power on the floor. For protection and… well, help,” she said. “Last thing we need is interference.”

He helped her move around the cushions so she could start drawing a large circle around the table in chalk. He watched her trace fleeting symbols on the aged floorboards and although they were nothing but scribbles in chalk such as a child might make… they made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. Something about them held power. Tess drew another set of signs on the table, scrawling the patterns carefully, only commenting in jest that she sometimes got fed up with the long preparation some spells needed.

With everything set, they sat across each other on cushions in the circle and she shuffled the deck expertly and had him ‘cut’ it before dealing the cards in a careful, deliberate way that placed the cards on particular symbols. To his mild alarm, Dante found that the symbols around and below them now almost _hummed_ with coiled power. Something was definitely happening – to Tess, specifically. She seemed to grow relaxed and almost languid, staring almost through the table rather than at it. He glanced at the circle and absently licked his lip. For the second time, he contemplated that the power of witches was attractive indeed.

She dealt every card face-down, laying them out in a pattern – six cards arranged in a cross shape and four more vertically beside them to the right. Every card laid down seemed to create ripples on invisible waters, a soft echo of sorts. Dante felt she might’ve been lulling herself into a kind of weak trance, enough to clear her mind. She drew a deep breath when she put the deck down.

She began to turn the cards over with the same kind of care and Dante felt like the cards were _breathing_ under her fingers. She started with the two cards at the center of the cross, overlapped: The Tower and the Seven of Wands, reversed.

“This is where we are now,” she said softly, dreamily, touching the Seven of Wands. “Conflict. We’re in the middle of it. Backed into a corner. The city is fighting a losing battle.”

Her hand moved to The Tower. “This is our battle. The threat that grows. It just heralds disaster and killing Chernobog hasn’t ended it.”

Dante tried to ask her something but she quickly raised her finger to her lips to bid him to stay silent without saying anything herself. Her expression and slightly unfocused gazed prompted him to obey and he waited.

She flipped the next card, the Nine of Wands, upside down. “Our present dilemma. We fought a battle but the war isn’t over. Something’s hiding in the shadows to come for us. Something… angry. In a cage.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed with interest. “Frosty’s co-pilot,” he whispered. “So we really have some sealed bastard reaching out.”

“Yes,” she said dreamily. “Reaching out through others.”

Dante felt restless now. He had so many questions, about the threads of energy hanging around them, suspended and undulating, about what demon they were dealing with, where they could find him… but he felt that he shouldn’t clutter her. He focused on trying to work out for himself what she meant, knowing that much of her foresight was vague.

She turned over the next card, revealing The Chariot. “Something changed, recently. Something moved, cogs within cogs. It’s… it’s approaching a goal of some kind.”

“Trying to free itself, no doubt,” Dante muttered before he could stop himself. “Tess, what if it’s after you and Magda because it’s trying to get out of whatever prison it’s in?”

He’d felt the allure of the power of witches and thought, no doubt, a greater demon knew it too well and was eager to taste it directly from the source.

“I…I don’t know. Maybe,” she said, eyes vaguely unfocused. She turned over the next card. Temperance, upside down. “Oh… this is bad. Power with no temper, straining at the seams, a dam bursting to drown the city.” Another card. Five of Clubs. “We… will have to prepare for war. A lot of violence. It’s… coming for us.”

She turned over the Emperor next. “The source – the demon is of great power, some authority – great rank and great… malice.”

“The big cheese – like I thought,” Dante muttered. “But if some gate to the Underworld was open we’d feel it.” An idea bubbled up in his mind. “A middle-man? Someone summoning it?”

Tess began to nervously bite her fingernails and her hand acquired a new, shaky hesitancy as she turned over another card. Eight of Swords.

“A prison. A vessel,” she said shakily. “A vessel rotting from within, enough for a voice, a stretched claw. Waiting, watching, within a prison. So close…”

Dante stared at her and set his jaw. This wasn’t a breach from the Underworld. This was something… subtle. He watched her hand quaver as it turned over the next card to reveal the Knight of Swords, stark against the dark table. Tess paused, staring at it for a long moment and then turned over the next card, revealing the High Priestess. She sounded a small, unhappy noise.

“Tess? What is it?”

“It… it’s marked us. You were right. It’s after us, _specifically_ ,” she gulped. “You… and me.” She pointed to the Knight and the High Priestess. “War. Intuition. Violence. Secrets.”

She turned the next card, Judgement. “The climax is coming fast. We… we might not have time to prepare.”

She was getting increasingly more agitated and Dante grew concerned. “Tess, calm down—“

“No, no, let me, I need to finish—“ she interrupted and turned over the last card.

Death.

Dante looked from the card to her and against his better judgement, his brow crept up his forehead. This now felt like a melodrama and his confidence in her abilities sank. “Does this mean I’m going to croak it soon?” he asked flatly.

She seemed to snap out of her deeper trance and actually rolled her eyes at him. “No. Don’t… don’t make fun of me,” she groused. “It’s a warning. No matter how this ends… everything will _change_. And it’s… it’s the final card. The last outcome. I can’t…see what it is.”

As those words left her mouth, her color seemed to drain and her gaze turned vacant and distant. She slumped back and pushed the table away violently, scattering the cards on the floor and breathed hard. The power of the magic circle seemed to gutter out and fade.

“Th-this was a mistake,” she quavered from between her hands as Dante reached over to steady her. “I didn’t find anything – and I think… I think I felt its gaze. I didn’t… I didn’t _see_ anything but I think _it_ almost looked _at me.”_

Dante sighed and pulled her to her feet. True, this had been… almost an exercise in futility. He’d hoped for more but irritation aside, he didn’t want to pressure Tess any further. “It’s fine, Twig. Calm down. We didn’t really learn anything earth-shattering, just that we gotta be on our toes.”

Frankly speaking, though, he wasn’t even sure about that.

“I’m sorry,” she said meekly.

He patted her head. “Not your fault. You look like hell, though. Wanna go get something to eat?”

“Um, sure, it’s about time. Roy said he’d do the cooking today,” Tess said quietly, then stooped to pick up the scattered cards.

Dante stooped to give her a hand and caught her hesitating over two cards; Death and one lying under it. Three of Swords stared up at her and she seemed slightly shaken by it before she swiped them both up and put the deck back together, hiding it in the cupboard she used up there in the attic.

“Still… if this is all true, how long do you think we’ve got? Maybe… if we found it before it breaks out, we could catch it before it gets outta hand,” Dante suggested as she wiped the chalk off the table.

He started to go over possibilities, ways of tracking down this menace and in fact, got so distracted that he failed to hear her reply or her attempts to get his attention until she nudged him.

“Are you _actually_ spacing out?” she chuckled.

Dante snapped out of it and squinted at her. “I’m thinking. You know, the thing you do a lot of, o wise one?” he retorted. “You usually do.”

“Heh. Good thing I’m not the only one doing the thinking,” she said with a wry smile.

They left the attic, clambering down the stairs quietly and went to the kitchen, both of them hungry like wolves. They ran into Roy in the lobby with a shoebox under his arm.

“Aha, she rises!” he chuckled, patting Tess’ back affectionately. “I’ve been looking for you. Your hand-canons are done.”

He offered the shoebox to Dante who opened it to reveal Ebony and Ivory, demurely nestled in the box and cushioned by crumpled paper. Dante’s expression melted from irritation to pure delight. He reached in and picked up one of the guns, turning it over in satisfaction and inspecting it. Not a mark on either of them, even the enamel now looked like it wasn’t a day old.

“Damn, this is… really good work!” he said with satisfaction. “Thanks a lot, Roy,” he added and twirled the gun once before he shoved in the back of his pants.

Roy spluttered and swatted his head before he could do the same with the other. “What are you doing!? You want to shoot your own ass-cheek off? Take that gun out of there, you little fool! I didn’t spend so much time on them for you to do that!”

Before a witty rejoinder could leave his mouth, Dante sheepishly obeyed, putting the guns back in the box. Instead he glared at Tess who was wheezing with her face turned away and her shoulders shaking with mirth.  

“You’re still going to cook, right?” Tess asked, after recovering and ignoring Dante’s scowl.

“Certainly, I was planning some steaks,” Roy said with a grin.

“Steaks?” Dante repeated, eyes wide.

As much as he loved pizza, being part-demon made him more or less a carnivore and he would never turn down the prospect of steaks. In fact, at the thought of them, his mouth watered and he stood there with a wide-eyed look.

“I’ll… go put my guns upstairs,” he said. “Don’t start without me!”

He hurried up the stairs, taking the steps two by two. Tess snorted loudly and turned to go to the kitchen.

“You’re both pathetic. Roy, you’re just in a good mood because you got to fiddle with the guns. You’re a nerd,” she accused him.

Roy barked out a laugh. “Oh, please. You think I don’t know what you two are up to? Can’t _I_ be pleased with some nice craftsmanship? I’m an old man, leave me to my little pleasures; I don’t get to deal with masterworks that often.”

Tess cringed at him. “You _blessed_ the guns. I could sense it a mile away. But Dante’ll never see it, it’s too subtle.”

“He’s not meant to,” Roy shrugged. “The guns are already taking on traits from his powers. All I’m doing is giving them a bit of a resistance to wear until they do.”

Tess just rolled her eyes just as Dante walked back into the kitchen, still with that eager, wide-eyed look. He beamed.

“What are you grinning about?” Tess irritably chuckled.

“Steaks, Twig! Steaks!” he said with a grin. “Aw don’t gimmie that look, I’m a growing guy! Who am I to say no to a juicy steak?!”

Roy just laughed. “Now, now Tess, don’t spoil his mood, you like steaks too.”

“Yeah, but he’s acting like he’s never eaten in his life,” she laughed and took a seat at the table at last.

Roy opened the fridge to get the food. “Now… I hope you two know understand that you’re playing with fire.”

Dante and Tess glanced at each other guiltily as he sat across her at the table. “You, uh…know?” Dante uttered.

“I do _now_ ,” Roy said cheekily, taking a platter of marinated steaks out of the fridge. He stood straight. “I had _hoped_ you might be clever about this. We’ve had a small victory—“

“Roy, it won’t last,” Tess said breathlessly. “Perhaps if we figured out why the madmen all descend into such bloody violence—“

Roy spoke carefully, like a professor teaching class. “I’ve tried. So has Magda. Best we’ve come up with is… they don’t know how to do anything else,” he said, laying the plate on the counter and mopping some juices that ran from it. “This creature… is angry. It’s lashing out… and I think these men and women it takes over become so broken that all they know is rage. And I’m afraid it likes that.”

Dante blinked at this grim prospect. “Are you suggesting it’s… feeding from this chaos?”

Roy nodded, without looking at them. “Very likely. I’m a djinn, my knowledge of demons and their habits is purely theoretical. For all we know it feeds from the _power_ that blood carries.”

Tess sighed. “So we have nothing,” she groaned.

She looked at Dante and during that moment of silence, they managed to communicate their mutual doubts about their own little escapade.

“I know what you two are thinking,” Roy interrupted their musings. “But we have proof of nothing, save a city going to hell in a handbasket, if you’ll permit me the expression. We don’t know what’s happening. And until we do, we can’t do anything.”

Dante hung his head in frustration. He sighed heavily and stared at the table for a long moment while Roy got together some things on the same large tray as the steaks.

“So we bumped off Chernobyl for nothing,” he growled.

Roy snarled a bit at the mention of the demon. “No, not for nothing,” he said sourly. “You did the right thing. We just didn’t know. We’ve made this thing angry and we still know nothing of it.”

“I don’t know how you can be so calm,” Tess groused, looking away.

“Calm is all you can be in a crisis, especially _before there’s even a crisis,_ ” Roy said. “Anyway… we need to be careful. We’re still protected by the wards but you have to take care. I’m worried about the Bloodgoyles that might be left. They’re spies of the highest order.”

“I haven’t seen many around,” Dante said.

“And that’s what worries me. They’re still around, they’ve just gotten cunning,” Roy sighed. “I can smell them when I go for errands. I can shake them but I’m worried they might be keeping tabs on you. So… be aware.”

Dante huffed and slumped back on his seat, linking his hands behind his head. “All this subterfuge is getting to my nerves. I’m almost tempted to say it’d be better if this thing got out…”

Roy looked at Dante over his shoulder incredulously and at the same time Tess kicked his leg under the table.

“Quit it,” she hissed. “Still, any time we’ve seen this creature’s influence, the air’s always filled with a nasty feeling. It makes me dizzy, so if something happens, we’ll know.”

Roy picked up the tray with the steaks and trimmings necessary for a grill. “That’s what I’m afraid of. But you two still need to eat. So set the table, these’ll be done soon.”

He turned round and carried them out back to the back yard where the grill was. Dante huffed and scowled at Tess across the table as he rubbed his shin.

“What are you doing, _tryin_ _g_ to spook him into agreeing with Grams’ plan to leg it?” Tess snapped.

Dante growled. “I have a feeling that option went out the window when we took out Frosty. Maybe it’s time we sat down with the old lady and laid this all out to her. She can’t keep up her pig-headed blindness, we’re three against one.”

Tess sighed. “Yeah. To be honest, I think she’s getting scared. I don’t know how she might react. And I’m… worried, I guess, about bringing up my visions. She… she’s probably going to call me crazy.”

“Fuck that, you saved my ass thanks to them,” Dante snapped and then huffed. “Have you had any others?”

“I think so,” she groused. “I keep having these awful dreams about a hospital. It’s abandoned, dark and… it feels like something’s happened there. I can’t tell what. I find myself wandering through it and something is watching me.”

She shivered.

“Don’t let it scare you, Twig,” Dante said absently and rubbed his shin again. “Damn, Twig, you really a linebacker or something? You kick like one.”

Tess smirked. “Ooh, big bad half-demon can’t take a Twig’s kick?”

Dante smiled at her tartly. “Maybe you’ve been shape-shifted this entire time and you really _are_ a linebacker.”

They stared at each other for a long moment and then started to chuckle.

“We’re crazy. We have an imminent threat on our hands and we’re sitting here cracking terrible jokes,” she said.

Dante grinned. “Hey, they say that if ya worry, you suffer twice.”

She crossed her arms on the table and rested her chin on them. “You might be right. We’re supposed to be safe after all.”

He didn’t like seeing her worried. He reached over and patted her head, making her laugh and sit up straight. Even when run down by sickness and stress, Tess looked… cute when she was laughing and he was pleased to see her smile again.

“So… I was gonna head out after we eat to grab some things from the store. Do you… I dunno, want me to get ya anything?” he offered. “Since you’re still in quarantine.”

Tess tilted her head. “Yeah, but don’t laugh,” she warned. “Could you… bring me a chocolate bar? These draughts Grams keeps giving me for my cold taste like ass. I need something sweet or I’ll go nuts if I have to have another one.”

Dante chuckled quietly. “Sure. I’ll get you chocolate, Twig.”

She grimaced. “You’re not exactly wrong about the quarantine… Grams is really angry about the Chernobog thing. She’s uh… bound me to the house for a bit.”

Dante started. “You’re… trapped here?” he asked, not even disguising how disturbed he was by the extent of Magda’s vindictiveness.

“Sort of,” Tess sighed. “She’ll lift it when she stops being angry but that might take a while. She’s just fed up with me taking risks.” She scowled and started to curl some of her hair around her finger. “I can’t leave and it’s so heavy-handed I don’t think I could find some way to work around it.” She coughed a little. “As if she needed it, with the kinda cold I had.”

Dante smiled sympathetically. “I’d rather you sit things out in case something pops up, anyway. If this big cheese decides to rear its head at last, it won’t be good if you’re right in the open.”

He didn’t want to tell her that he preferred to keep her out of any conflict now because he was wary of putting her in danger like he had with Chernobog. They both stood up to start setting the table.

“Hmph, I’ll just have to figure out a way to get back at it,” she said firmly. “Until then, try not to get killed while I’m not around. I won’t be there to save your ass.”

Dante laughed and all he had to say in reply was a scoff, knowing it would irk her. “You saved me, what, once? And how many times have I pulled your thin, twiggy ass out of harm’s way?”

It was, perhaps, a little unfair to say that, but if he irritated her enough she might stop being so gloomy. She scoffed loudly, fetching plates for the table.

“Yeah right, you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to talk about my ass,” Tess chuckled. “Careful, I’ll seriously start thinking you really like it.”

Dante smiled impishly as he fetched glasses and she went for cutlery. As her back was turned while she rummaged through the drawers for them, he went to get the napkins and passed right by her, suddenly stopping and patting her butt, leaning over whispering in her ear: “You read me like a book.”

Tess froze and forks and steak knives nearly went flying from her hand. She turned her head to look at him with narrowed eyes but a face getting increasingly rosier. They stared at each other and he was so tempted to steal a kiss… but she preempted him.

“You _do_ realize I’m holding steak-knives, right?” she said, smiling tartly.

“You look so sexy when you have a murderous look in your eye, Twig,” he said with a wide grin.

He nearly expected her to slap him or something like that but she instead chuckled and shook her head, reaching out and swatted his arm gently. “Keep saying shit like that and Roy’ll catch you eventually.”

Dante shrugged cheekily and went to rummage through the fridge for some root beer for them while Tess awkwardly started to dress a salad. He’d gotten what he wanted, that little bit of feistiness. Roy came in, carrying a platter of perfectly-grilled sirloin steaks, dripping with juice and wafting with aroma. Dante heard his stomach growl _loudly_. Roy looked at him and smiled kindly.

“Well, hope you like them medium-well,” he chuckled.

Tess brought the bowl of salad to the table, eyeing the steaks and then shrugged, while Roy fetched a bowl of prepared mash potato that had been waiting in the warm oven. “Jeez, Roy, it’s just us three, you’ve cooked for a battalion again.”

“You’re growing kids,” Roy said with a shrug. “And you, miss, better start eating more! Dante’s right, you’re a stick if I ever saw one and you look worse since you caught that cold!”

Dante hooted in agreement as they all saw down to eat. Good food, good company and the lingering feel of Tess’ butt made him forget the imminent threat looming over them for a bit.

“I love you guys,” he sighed wistfully, cracking open one of the root beers.

He reached over and knocked cans with Tess who smirked knowingly at him before they both took a swig.

“Sure, you just say that because we feed you,” she chuckled afterwards. “If you didn’t pitch in with the expenses and everything else, you’d be such a freeloader,” she teased, serving herself with some salad.

Roy squinted at her and poked a juicy steak with a fork, unceremoniously slapping it on her plate despite her squeaked objections.

“Eat it,” he commanded. “You’ll never get better otherwise.” He proceeded to draw a steak into his own plate, then nudged the platter towards Dante, then cracked open his root beer. “Help yourself.”

Dante never intended to shy away from a good plate of food. He grabbed the first steak at hand, prodding a fork into it and drawing it to his plate, licking his lips at the juice oozing from it. He happily carved away and ate greedily. He groaned happily at the first bite of steak to fill his mouth.

“Daaaamn,” he said around a mouthful. “Didn’t know heaven tasted of steak! How’d you do this, old man?”

Tess rolled her eyes. “Ass-kisser,” she scoffed.

Roy laughed, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Little secrets from the Middle East,” he chuckled. “Battle-tested through the years by dozens of fussy eater witches.”

They ate in peace, almost obsessively avoiding any discussion of the threats looming over them. It was a necessary reprieve. Roy gathered the dishes after they’d all finished, mumbling irritably at Tess’ comparative lack of appetite. The witch herself decided to go sleep a little, dreading the prospect of another dose of Magda’s potions. Nevertheless, Dante found her perched on a chair beside her window, staring at the streets outside when he knocked on her door.

“S’open,” she called from inside and he walked in boldly before the words were even out of her mouth.

He thought she looked rather bored. He carried Rebellion in the guitar case again, as a precaution and his guns were tucked away under his coat.

“Goin’ out?” she asked.

“Yup. Need some frozen pizzas,” he said cheekily. “And I won’t forget your chocolate,” he added with a grin, making her snort.

“Man, it’s dumb but I’m jealous of you now, I’m sick of sitting indoors,” she sighed. She just about pouted.

Dante smiled sympathetically at her. “Hey, I know it pisses you off but I’ll feel better if you’re here safe, Twig. Rest up.”

Tess shrugged. “Yeah, yeah… be careful. And don’t get lost,” she joked.

Dante held his arms wide as he back-stepped to the door, and casually said "Hey...it's _me_ we're talkin' about!"

He left her room with a cheeky, confident smirk, even as she rolled her eyes at him. He was strangely careful not to say any goodbyes – was he feeling superstitious, maybe? Afraid of jinxing something? – and then out the building into the cool evening quickly.

The sky was nice and clear and the snow was well on its way to melt. He didn’t think anything bad could happen. Everything felt calm.


	15. Point of No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dante comes face to face with a very harsh reality and some memories he'd rather have stayed buried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised, this is a pretty hard chapter. Plenty of gore and violence.

Tess had gotten up from her perch at the window to go lie down when Magda burst into her room. The old woman’s face was warped in rage and her sharp breathing filled the girl’s ears before they were face to face, Magda breathing hard.

“What have you done?!” she snarled.

Tess almost fell against her window from surprise; she was sure Dante had closed the door after he left and she didn’t think she’d left it unlocked. Magda had used her powers to open the door and Tess hadn’t even noticed! She seized Tess by the arms and forced the girl to look at her. Magda’s face was a mask of pale fury. For once, her hair was seemed to be unravelling from her normally smooth plait.

Tess was startled and could only stare numbly. “Grams, what—“

“What have you _done_?” the old woman demanded again, shaking Tess slightly. She looked furious. “What do you think you’re doing, foolish girl!? I know you took the deck—I told you not to touch such a thing again! Don’t you understand?! You don’t know what you’ve done with your thoughtless behaviour!”

Tess fought back, trying to pull her arm away from her grandmother. “I’m _not_ insane! You’re the one who doesn’t understand. I never lied. I see things—and then they happen! Let go of me! Why can’t you just believe me?!”

Magda relinquished her arms and then _slapped_ her across the face, angrily.

“Stupid girl! I _do_ believe you. I always have. I’ve known for long,” she said and Tess felt her blood drain to her feet.

“You…” she stammered. “You’ve just been—“

“I’ve been trying to _protect_ you!” Magda said dryly. But Tess knew that behind her anger, Magda was _afraid_. “You don’t understand… this wretched power you have, it _draws them to us,”_ she said. “You may see the unseen but it can also see _you_ , stupid girl!”

Tess stared dumbly, her face still stinging from the slap. “You think—“

“Nevermind what I think!” Magda snapped. “You’ve brought us all terrible danger! Meddling with Sparda’s son and trying to spy on these horrors bearing down on us! You have no reason to insert yourself into the affairs of demons! It’s never been our place!”

“But Grams, we had to do _something!”_ Tess protested. “We can’t just sit here and hope it all blows over – or run away! How _long can we keep running?!”_

Something in the way Tess said that made Magda flinch and she took a step backwards. “You’re just like your grandfather and your mother – and you’ll die like them, too!” she snapped. “My decision is final,” Magda added, staring her down. “These reckless outings are over. If I catch you meddling in this again, I can and _will_ punish you severely, do you understand?”

“…Fine,” Tess replied through clenched teeth, staring vaguely at a space between them.

“Look at me when I speak to you!” Magda insisted, making Tess focus. Her face looked pinched. “Our situation has become very dire. And you know very well who is to blame! He brought it all on us when he arrived here and it is _you_ who let him in!”

“That’s not true!” Tess snapped back. “He didn’t do any of this – Dante’s done nothing but save our skins repeatedly! He owes us nothing and he still did more for us than we can ever repay him!”

Magda’s face did not change. “Regardless. The moment he returns, I am ousting him from here. He poses too much danger to us. I will send him away and we will flee this city.”

Tess was startled. “You can’t do that,” she said quickly.

Magda managed a sardonic smile. “Is that so?” she sneered. “You think I don’t know what goes on in my own house? You’re turning out just like your mother, consorting with the Underworld’s kind.”

“Don’t do that,” Tess snarled in a deadly sotto. “Don’t you _dare_ talk like that about my mother and don’t you dare imply anything about Dante. He’s not a random demon.”

Magda stared at her with hard eyes. The two women tried to force the other to bow out without success and in the end, Magda just turned around and left the room, slamming the door in her wake, leaving Tess to slump against her window-sill and rub her aching cheek absently.

Meanwhile, Dante strolled down the street at leisure, hands in his pockets and coat playing in the soft breeze. It’d gotten significantly less cold since Chernobog’s demise but Dante kept himself alert for any demonic presence that might come sniffing for trouble. He was headed for the grocery store, planning to grab some drinks and food, and of course, the little favour for Tess. It was very quiet that evening but he didn’t mind it. He passed by the small clinic near the shop and suddenly stopped.

He stood there on the sidewalk, stock still for a moment, and then slowly turned his head towards the clinic. It was a humble, small building just two floors high, built sometime in the eighties or seventies. It had ridden out the ups and downs of the local area with grace. Now the air grew rank and stale and time seemed to grind to a treacle crawl. A blanket of silence was drawn across the street and even light seemed to dim.

Something reached out from the clinging shadows yet again. Dante’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t hear or see anything but the fine hairs on the back of his neck pricked up. It seemed that his trip would be postponed as he took a tentative step closer to the building, listening and watching. The lights in the building were dark and only the modest sign over the door flicked lazily with soft tinkles now and then. Dante stalked closer, hypervigilant under the sudden ‘heaviness’ that now hung in the air. The silence was almost deafening in itself, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears loud and clear.

He grew tense; something was nearby, reaching out to him and against his better judgement, something primal in him growled quietly as he stepped closer to the building.

The razor noise of shattering glass startled him into stopping and looking up. He only just caught sight of something flung out of the windows. He couldn’t see what it was exactly until it completed its meteoric arch and landed on the ground with a strange, squishy crack. It _bounced_ on the concrete with another wet crack and finally its momentum brought it rolling to a gentle stop at his feet.

The severed head of a man stared up at him, its features frozen in a terrified scream. The cut was anything but clean and part of the spine peeked out from under the mangled gore of his neck.

Dante’s eyes narrowed and he stepped over the head carefully. “Perfect,” he muttered.

He scowled and drew his guns as he approached the building. He could sense something there, now. He was not disappointed as a crash and the din of shattering glass heralded his welcoming committee. He heard it land heavily into the darkness of the alley beside the clinic and peered out at him, a lone red ember glow crouched near the ground. He heard the tap of claws against concrete.

“Come on then, don’t be shy!” he said with a smirk.

His prospective opponent let sharp snarl as it staggered out of the shadows. It was taller than him, lanky and staggered along with a lurching, drunken gait on monstrous legs and toes tipped with large claws.

Its dried hide was dark with bulged veins coruscating across the leathery surface, muscles and joints crackling and popping with every move. It stood on two monstrous legs that bent in all the wrong ways with a pointed, wedge-like head with a wide maw frozen in a slit of a smirk. One eye was large, the red of liquid fire and bulged. The other eye was behind what looked like the remains of glasses, flesh tumorous around the glass, entrapping foul crimson liquid where only a bright white dot seemed to be spinning independently.

For a moment, Dante thought it had no arms but then noticed that its torso was bulging and thrashing. It dawned on him that what looked like stretchy hide was in fact an organic straightjacket of sorts, fastened tight with ragged belts and rusty buckles, the skin growing in clumps over them. It seemed to be constantly fighting to free its arms from the straight jacket even as it staggered forward, torso twisting and stretching as its arms struggled beneath its own flesh. Its mouth opened to reveal rows upon rows of saw-like teeth and a long black tongue writhing in hungry anticipation.

Dante watched the abomination stagger into the light with a scowl. He’d seen enough demons in his lifetime so far but nothing quite this… disgusting. Demons always stank but this thing reeked of rot and decay and the foulness of an absolute lack of reason. He felt so put off that he thought he might throw up, it actually gave him quite a turn; but his demonic instincts were snarling quietly in rage – how dare this misshapen thing call itself demonic? How dare it bring its taint before him?

“So… this is what you madmen turn into when you’re left long enough,” he muttered.

It was easy to see. He knew it in his bones this was a madman that had gone too far, whose master had burrowed in too deep.

The thing cackled deeply and writhed as cracking, squishy noises followed the flesh of its back distending and squirming before two long articulated limbs, insectoid and covered in viscera erupted out its back to help it walk – they ended in barbed points that made sharp clicks when they touched the ground.

The creature lunged at him amazingly fast, the bony limbs helping propel it forward before swinging up to strike. Dante stepped forward, drawing Rebellion from the discarded guitar-case as a light drizzle began. The barbed ends recoiled from the sword with a reverberating clang and the demon attempted to strike from the sides, its black tongue slithering and dripping with frothed and bloodied drool. Dante ducked under the pincer swipe and found himself right up to the foul creature and with a powerful thrust sent the blade into the demon’s jaw and straight through the top of its head.

“Not very bright, are ya?” he grunted, smirking.

Too easy.

Until it wasn’t.

The demon screeched, causing Dante to wince at the high-pitched keening. It thrashed and its insectoid appendages came sharply around and thrust into Dante’s gut, breaking his grip on Rebellion and sending him tumbling along the ground. He grunted in surprise; those feeble-looking spindly legs hit like anvils!

His sword remained lodged in the demon’s skull as it began to swing around drunkenly in pain and rage. The blade slipped out of the demon’s skull with a sucking, wet noise and the creature hunched over, glaring at Dante and breathing raggedly. A gooey white liquid dribbled from the wound along with blood, rapidly clotting. A scab soon formed, falling away to reveal fresh hide beneath.

Dante growled. So that thing regenerated fast.

The demon snarled, shaking itself down and suddenly spoke in a thick, wheezing voice like the grind of stone slabs.   

“Fancy a taaaaalk… do youuuu?” it managed with a raspy laugh. “Trueeee we never – _hurrrr_ … did talk, did weeee?”

Dante ducked out of the way of its attack, a massive leap that saw its clawed feet and bony appendages pointed right at him, tongue whipping in the breeze. With no sword immediately at hand, Dante drew his guns and with careful aim, shot out the demon’s eyes as it descended.

“We gotta stop meeting like this!” Dante said, realizing what the familiarity of the demon’s tone meant. “Every time we do, yer uglier and smellier!”

The demon landed with a crunch but Dante was well out of its way, dry-heaving at the stench of it. The demon screamed as it backpedalled away from him, shaking its head as the same white-ish fluid streamed from its eyes along the blood, fizzing and clotting. It still had enough presence to speak through its keening.

“Needssssss must…!” it grunted as the white stuff crusted and then crumbled, revealing fresh eyes. “My presence _isssssss_ too…. – _urrh_ —much for even the mossssst… robust of my thralls. But you… what are youuuuu getting out of all thissss? _Huuuuurhg_ —what did the witchesssss… promise _you_?”

The demon suddenly thrust its bony appendages into the ground, piercing the concrete with a loud crack. Dante heard a soft rumble underfoot and just managed to jump backwards just as the barbed edges shot out from under the ground where he’d been standing. They flailed for a moment and the demon retracted them, charging him.

“I don’t see how that’s your business!” he snapped. “Maybe they’ve promised me a big ‘ol dinner!”

The demon laughed horribly. “Dinner? _Huhuhuuurrrr…_ You reallllyyyy don’t… know…!” it cackled. “If you… kneeeewww… you would… _huuuuuh_ —take it yourself!”

Dante narrowed his eyes at the charging demon as he snatched Rebellion from the ground.  He swung it forward to deflect the rapid jabs of the bony limbs, the impact sounding metallic.

“Ooh, tryin’ to get me to start wondering what ya mean?” Dante responded. “Hey, don’t let me stop ya! Not like it’ll do ya any good! I’ve been thinkin’ of starting a business killing demons – and business is looking _good!_ ”

He twirled his blade and rushed, coming for a good hit now that it was reeling. The demon snarled and opened its maw wide and Dante saw it look like it was convulsing momentarily, then suddenly spat a dark glob of some sort of _goo_ at him. The bizarre nature of this attack caught Dante off guard and he was too close to avoid it anyway. The thick mucus-like stuff splattered over his face with a hearty splat and instantly hardened, covering his mouth, nose and left eye in a hard, solid shell. As he stumbled to a halt he barely saw the demon leap into the air again, using its unfolding appendages to latch onto the wall of a building. From there it bound from wall to wall until it positioned itself behind him and leapt down, its talons pointing at him.   

“Fool!” it howled. “Liar! You’ve – _huuuuurhg_ – felt their power! I know you hhhhhaaaave! Isn’t it _sweeeet?!_ You can’t hhhhhide it! All us demons feel it!!”

Dante was grunting and stumbling, trying to keep his eye on the demon while unable to breathe. He did his best to keep track of the agile monstrosity, all the while trying to rid himself of the hardened expectorant on his face. With the demon coming for him, Dante took a risk. He turned the sharp pommel of his sword towards his face and slammed it into the hard gunk. It successfully cracked, allowing Dante to finally rip the largest piece of it off his face with enough time to swing his sword overhead as the demon descended with all the momentum of its leap’s added height and large weight.

Dante’s knees buckled under the force of the impact, cracking the concrete beneath them with a loud noise like the discharge of a shotgun. The demon howled in pain, thrashing. Rebellion had carved a path through its abdomen and straight out the back, suspending it awkwardly over Dante as he found himself on his knee. Dante snarled in pain, feeling the long bony appendages of the demon having pierced his chest clean through, passing but a hair’s breadth from his heart.

The demon flailed, gaining a little purchase as it managed to put its feet onto the ground and shifting its weight, despite the blade almost ripping into its spine. It gleefully distracted Dante by burrowing the barbed stingers deeper into his chest, then slammed its foot into him, pinning him into the ground on his back. It cackled darkly, spewing blood, bile and the sticky white substance as it loomed over him.

“You’re… _hrrrrgh_ … quiiiiiite the funny guy!” it rattled. “Sssssitting on that opportunity like that and – _huuuuugh—_ doing nothing! But I suppose – _hraaaah_ – I should be thankful! You’re playing allllooong very nicely!”

It broke into a fit of hysterical laughter. “I’ll tell her what an idiot – _huuuurgh_ – you’ve been wwwwwhen I’m feasting on her heart’s blood!!” it laughed. “I’ll tell herrrrrr that you just lay dowwwwn and dieeeed while I sssssnatched her up! _Wheeeheeeheee_ youuuu can’t belieeeeve how hhhhhard it issss to multi-task!”

“…what?”

Dante looked up, suddenly completely oblivious to his injuries. His demonic side snarled quietly, his teeth swelling to fangs and his eyes stinging from the flood of black and red in them. He felt foolish and angry, for falling for this lure. He thought of the building, would the wards hold? He thought of Tess, bound to the house and unable to flee and maybe unable to fight. He thought of Magda’s fears and Roy’s concerns. What was he doing? Sitting here playing the fool with this talkative maniac and straying too far of what really needed his protection.

His demon snarled – _he_ snarled, baring his teeth and his throat producing a noise far beyond the limits of human vocal chords. Something was hollering him _home_ , tugging him to go back, a horrible feeling that he was _needed._ Guilt tried to flood him, loss and despair creeping in to paralyze before they were all swept away by a wave of fury and bitterness as the liquid crimson power in his eyes ignited and his grip around the sword hardened, his fingers cracking as claws pushed out of his skin slowly.

 _“I’m not going to fail anyone again!”_ he thought over that growl and then allowed it to consume him.

“I don’t have your full attention yet, huh?” he said, his voice thrumming with a terrible presence that lurked in the corners.

The demon stopped – stopped moving, stopped talking, even stopped breathing momentarily.

A terrible roar ripped out of Dante’s chest and Rebellion gleamed red for a moment as he forced himself to stand and swung the sword to the side. Demonic hide, flesh and bone parted violently with wet cracks and tears as the blade blew through its ribcage, sending chunks of corrupt flesh and fouled blood into the air. The demon screeched, finding itself swept in the potent momentum of the attack and flung away with a deep gouge in its body. It went flying, crashing into the side of a building across the street, the long, bony appendages snapping with terrible cracks. It slumped to the ground with a pathetic snarl, writhing but Dante had no time for it now.

He broke into a wild run back towards the boarding house, securing Rebellion to his back and ripping the barbed stingers out of him with no care for the pain or the blood that sprayed from his chest. He never retreated from battles but his instincts were howling, screaming about the now certain violation of his territory, his home, his _people_ –

The streets were empty and felt endless, the distance of a stroll magnified to a marathon and the silence devoured everything; his breath, his footsteps, his heartbeat, even his thoughts. The melting snow made the air heavy with moisture and the smell of mildew. The city was under a blanket of evil – there was no other way to call it. Something had swept its hand into the veins of the city, coming up from the very streets, invisible and yet sinister all the same.

As he turned around the last corner before the building, Dante saw traces of what he now recognized as a massive protective circle on the ground – wasn’t this where he always started to feel the familiar, delicate wards of the building? He never saw anything but now he did and to his horror, he sensed nothing. All that was left were smudged, burned and warped lines and symbols. Something had trampled over these protective marks.

The building was a warzone.

The very street in front of the building looked like a bombsite. Warped remains of demons and people that were demons littered the area. The front door was gone, lying on the steps with a large crack in it. Spatters of blood painted the ground in ugly swathes and delicate sprays. Cracks scarred the pavement and coruscated cross the façade all over. The building itself was dark and only faint noises came from inside.

A little ways from the broken door, in a puddle of blood, lay a tall, battered body. Roy was face down and didn't seem to be moving.

Dante stopped in his tracks, taken aback at the savagery in front of him before he dove to Roy, praying that he wasn’t dead. He turned him over slowly and carefully, breathing out in relief to hear a faint grunt coming from him. Then he cringed to see what had happened to him.

The entire right side of Roy's face was more or less, a mangled piece of meat, covered in blood. His right eye was gouged with a nasty wound.

“H-hey, Roy?” Dante said reluctantly. “Still with us, old timer?”

Roy groaned and convulsed, coughing up a mouthful of dark blood. His single eye shot open and spun wildly as the battered body grew tensed and shivered. He raised a bruised and slashed arm and gripped Dante's coat, tugging hard. He frantically pointed at the building.

“Tess! Get her...out of there!” he ordered sharply, his eye glazing over. “Get her out of there! They surprised me!” he grunted, his grip loosening and he dropped to his elbow, panting with his head hanging low. “Go!” he shouted. “Never mind me, get her out of there! _Now!!”_

He fairly pushed Dante off him and as much as he hated to leave the old man, he nodded grimly and rushed to the door, drawing his sword. The carnage that confronted him almost sent him running back out. What had previously been a welcoming home was now a battlefield. Roy’s desk by the stairs was little more than splinters and the floor was pockmarked with dents, holes and cracks.

Maddened people, already too far gone into the embrace of the demon taint to be saved, wandered through the building – Dante could hear them and sense them everywhere. One squatted where Roy’s desk had been and was tearing away at papers and logbooks scattered around there. He suddenly whipped around as he caught wind of Dante, eyes crazed on a face that was a patchwork of features and a large jaundiced yellow eye bursting from his chest. With a croaked scream he lurched at the teenager, wielding a rusted gardening machete.

The sights, the sounds and the smells were all too familiar, woke too raw memories in Dante, so much so that he barely had enough attention to intercept the attack. He drew Ebony and pointed it at the demon’s face just as it was nearly on him, firing several rounds point blank. The demon tumbled backwards into a messy heap as the bullets blew large holes through the skull, all but obliterating it and it landed with a splat, sending blood everywhere.

He snapped himself out of the fog of his emotions and scoured the ground floor for Tess, calling her name, then raced up the damaged stairs. She wouldn’t have stayed in her room in all this mess and he had a suspicion where she might be. He had to cut down a few more corrupted people, all of them monstrous and warped beyond words. His heart skipped a beat when he made it to the first floor.

Tess' door rested against the opposite wall, warped and broken in two, with smoke rising from a large scorch-mark on it, from the inside – whatever had happened, the girl was going down fighting.

“Tess!!” he called, ducking into the room.

The room scared him; everything was in disarray, the couch was knocked aside in a way that told him she’d used it to barricade her door. The bookcase lay on its face, broken as though stepped on, the closet had fallen onto the bed, cracking it. The lamps and windows were shattered. Scorch marks littered the walls and the smell of burned materials permeated the room – heck, some spots still smouldered. Ugly and large claw gouges scarred the walls and the floor – and some were bloody.

The sight of blood made him bare his teeth and snarl.  

 _“That… better not be Tess’,”_ he thought furiously.

He abandoned the empty room; there was only one place she might be now, the one sanctuary she would try.

He raced for the stairs up, hoping the wards on the attic could hold, even for a little while. He absently thought that if this situation was making him slide back into the past, undoubtedly her head must be swimming with her own past experiences too. He had to find her. He snarled in frustration as he was forced to cut down more of the warped, demonic madmen in his way upstairs. He burst into the top floor and made for the attic door, just to find a nightmare.

The demon was tall, rail-skinny and a sickly red colour like drying blood. It was bony like an emaciated bird with limbs too long for itself. The head, perched precariously on a too long neck was strangely elongated and the mouth was trapped by a strange device like a rusted mechanical muzzle cage, dripping with frothed drool and filtering a hard, rattling breathing. The head was bald, criss-crossed with bruised veins and scars and a mere few wisps of hair clinging to it, the skin dry and cracked where several horns erupted erratically from it, cascading down the back in crowded little spurs. The spine was elongated, ending to a smooth whip of a tail that constantly twirled busily.  Its arms stretched deformed, bent in all the wrong ways and heavy with flaps like bat wings tipped with sharp claws where the fingers and thumb ought to be.

The demon grunted and forcefully tore away the small door to the attic with a terrible crunch and Dante knew by the resistance that Tess was struggling to hold it shut with force and with her wards until they gave way. Just as he made it there, the demon reached in, snuffling, and then yanked Tess out by the ankle, like a rat, screaming. She fought desperately to escape, clawing at the floor with her hands, kicking and flailing and continuing to scream. Flames danced on the demon’s hide but the creature ignored them entirely as it violently manhandled the girl to seize her by the neck. The knife she’d once used to show him his aura was clutched in her hand but suddenly it seemed so powerless.

Dante got to her first, barrelling in from the corridor, eyes blazing red and a terrible growl rumbling from his chest. The demon screeched in surprise and jumped aside to avoid him, never letting of the girl who was yanked along, choking and struggling to free herself. She nearly didn’t see Dante dive at her, ducking under the demon’s swing and ram his gun’s muzzle at the demon’s hand holding her up. He fired, the crack of the discharge reverberating over the screeching of the demon. Despite the suicidal close range Tess was unharmed and she fell from the demon’s grip as the joint was blown apart in a spray of fine mist blood.

Her knees buckled and she fell forward into his expectant arm, breathing in gasps while Dante shot a few more rounds into the demon, forcing it back. Tess managed to get to her feet although she seemed dazed – perhaps from the overabundance of demonic power flooding the once safe building.

“Get behind me,” Dante growled, keeping his eyes on the demon and gently pushing her behind him.

The demon drew back, in the twitchy movement of a bird, howling in pain. The free-moving talons were simply gone and the delicate structure of the wing-like appendage was damaged. It latched onto a wall like a lizard, glaring at Dante with wild, jaundiced eyes as the two teenagers stared it down.

Tess reached out to steady herself against the wall. “I-I can’t do anything to it!” she whimpered. “It shakes my fire off like it’s water…”

“It’s okay,” Dante reassured her, never taking his eyes off the creature.

The demon screeched again and then suddenly launched itself upwards, shooting through the ceiling with a crash of snapping wood and breaking masonry, showering down debris and dust. The crash and clatter of breaking furniture and structures and loud scratching came from above.

“It’s coming back,” Tess whispered fearfully.

Dante said nothing, all of his senses were hyper-aware of everything now, from the movements of the demon somewhere above them, skittering about on sharp claws on hardwood, to the mix of fear and relief he read in Tess’ rapid breathing and even the ferric yet sweet smell of the blood from a cut on her cheek.

He could almost taste it on his lips.  

He shrugged it off though because the noises from above grew louder and more definite and suddenly Dante knew exactly where the demon was going to come from.

“Tess, get back!” he blurted and pushed her away just as a loud shriek rocketed for them.

She hit the floor just as Dante drew his sword in time for the demon to burst down through the ceiling and ram right into him with a shower of debris.

“Dante!!” Tess shrieked.

The demon tackled him through the floor with a loud whine of snapping wood and the crumble of concrete. She heard more violent crashes from below as she stumbled to the edge of the gaping hole left in their wake and looked down. Tess gasped to find that not only had the demon rammed Dante clean through the floor beneath them, it had cannoned them through all the other floors just to crater him into the basement!

The demon reeled back from its attack, hovering over the seemingly motionless teenager in lying in the massive dent. Tess could see that from his aura he was merely stunned and then she yelped when a piece of wood broke under her weight and fell down into the hole, making the demon’s crazed gaze snap up at her, frothy drool streaming from between the holes of the rusted muzzle. It produced a throaty snarl and its tail whipped in excitement, smashing a shelf near it. It coiled itself like a spring, ready to lunge upwards at her.

Dante moved suddenly, rolling to his feet and drawing both guns as his arms crackled and sparked with power. His first shots were normal but then something seemed to snap and he snarled, his rage travelling into his shots. The guns ignited in a brilliant red haze and the next shots were magnified blasts of raw power, cutting into the demon with angry fizzles and cracks. The demon howled sharply in pain and reeled backwards momentarily before it exploited a lull in Dante’s gunfire to launch itself at him with a screech, cannoning them both out of Tess’ sight.

She grabbed her knife and made a mad dash for the stairs. She had to dodge debris and broken floorboards, almost tumbling down the stairs in her rush. A maddened human – barely human, actually, he was so deformed by his corruption that he barely looked the part anymore – laughed hysterically and lunged for her as she reached the lobby.

Determined and fuelled by adrenaline, the witch’s reaction was nearly a reflex rather than a conscious decision. She barked out three words, flint hard and jagged and the demon found itself pinned to the wall next to the stairs. Tess dodged around it and flicked her arm. With a brief hesitation of embers, a massive blast of fire roared and left a massive scorch mark on the wall, burning the top half of the demon to brittle, scattering cinders as the body crumbled but Tess was long gone, diving into the stairs heading for the basement. From the top of the stairs she was able to see what was happening below.

The demon had rammed Dante clean across the basement into the wall but he’d seemingly pushed it back and they were now caught in a rapid exchange of blows from the sharpened edges of the demon’s wings, caught by Rebellion as it swung in a defensive pattern, seeking an opening. He managed to deliver a serious blow that knocked it back, gouging a slice through its narrow chest. Agile like a serpent, it bounced backwards to avoid an overhead blow and lunged again, aiming its sharp claws for Dante’s head while bloody foam dribbled from the muzzle.

Dante braced himself, gritting his teeth and rushing to meet it, feeling relentless and furious. His teeth felt sharp as he grinned and his fingers ached as they swelled to accommodate growing claws.

Rebellion’s blade pierced through the metal of the muzzle with a loud snapping noise. It splintered into large pieces but didn’t fall away as the blade burrowed through the skull of the demon, entering the mouth and exiting the back of the neck. The momentum of the blow was enough to stop the demon’s advance and pin it to the wall behind them with a thunderous crash that shook the entire building. The demon screamed, straining and tensing like a butterfly struggling at the tip of a pin, splattering the wall behind it with foul, dark ichor.

The monstrous body relaxed after one last tension and slumped in front of Dante, as if submitting. It was not dead yet, it just sat there, crouched against the wall and keened, weakly and painfully, looking up at Dante; it had a strange, crazed look, neither pleading nor raging.

Dante breathed hard, a sadistic smirk twisting his features – he had this thing at his mercy and he knew in his gut that there was no going back for this creature. Whatever human it had been once upon a time, it was all gone. All that was left was this darkly _familiar_ sensation coming from it; he knew who was looking out from those jaundiced eyes. He snarled at it, drawing his guns while leaving the sword pinned to the wall. He twirled them idly for a moment, as his arms crackled once more with an unstable crimson power.

“Did you really think I wasn’t gonna get here on time?” he growled, his voice laced with the timbre of his dark heritage.

He pointed both guns at the demon’s head as the power flowing through them seemed fit to burst.

“See ya,” he muttered, opening fire.

The bullets tore through the demon, eventually hitting the pommel of his sword and sending it deeper into its skull, splitting it from the body almost completely in a shower of foul blood. The demon didn’t even scream, it simply slumped forward dead and started to slowly decompose as Dante pried the sword from the wall with a metallic snap. His arms still crackled with power and he had to take generous breaths to clear his head from the dizzying and intoxicating bloodlust. He wanted so dearly to tear out of there, to find some more demons and _butcher_ them for the audacity of invading his territory.

The weak yelp made him turn around and fear cut a path of clarity through the fog of his excitement. Tess struggled to stand at the bottom of the stairs as a tall, rail thin man stood over her, deathly pale skin stark against the dark clothes. His greasy black hair tumbled to his shoulders unkempt and pretentious square glasses perched on a thin, hooked nose. A skeletal-looking, thin hand rested on the girl’s shoulder and he stooped over, whispering something.

Dante could see right through him, the figure swam lightly in space, vague and hazy in the gloom, surrounded by the foulest-looking shadow he’d ever seen – and Dante needed no magical sight to know it was there, he knew what it was because he’d felt its reach before. It writhed and stretched and plucked at the girl and Tess struggled to pull herself away from it but seemed petrified as it tried to engulf her. She slumped against the nearby wall, fighting for purchase, her head lowered and her teeth clenched in an agonized grimace. She trembled and craned herself desperately away from the presence looming over her, choking out noises that indicated she was trying to scream.

Dante bared his teeth like a dog and still overwhelmed by these dark urges he was left with, he flung himself at the pair, drawing his gun and firing a barrage of bullets over Tess’ shoulder. He was being impossibly reckless but his aim was so perfect he had no fear of injuring her. The bullets sailed through the man, who looked right at him with pitch black, empty eyes and a serene smile that simply aggravated the part-demon even more. He swung his sword, crackling with power, at the figure and cleaved clean through it though it was like swinging through smoke, merely splitting and distorting the image and just embedding into the wall nearby.

The man, bisected at the waist, seemed merely annoyed as his form billowed and twisted around like curling smoke on the wind. He took his hand off Tess’ shoulder and the girl gasped as though a physical weight was lifted off her and her knees buckled. The man stared down at Dante with a gentle tilt of the head and a contemptuous, amused smile.

“Too bad,” he said dreamily, turning his dark gaze to Tess. “But do remember, my dear, what I told you. I’m expecting you, very soon,” he added, waving his hand in an exaggerated, gentlemanly gesture before the entire figure disintegrated slowly like dissipating smoke.

Dante snarled vaguely at the creature, mouthing a foul curse with a voice that still resonated with demonic ire even as he struggled to get a hold of himself. He secured Rebellion to his back and reluctantly reached for Tess who was crumpled at the foot of the stairs, leaning against the wall with her eyes shut and breathing hard.

“Tess?” he spoke softly, suddenly worried. “Hey… Twig, are you with me?”

She reached up and clutched her head momentarily, then looked up. She seemed startled to see him and choked a small gasp, before her gaze went somewhat blank and travelled over his shoulder. She nodded slowly and clutched her shoulder, where the spectre’s hand had lain. She tugged at the neckline of her shirt and saw a bruise of bony fingers left on her skin. Dante gently tried to help her up, but he was suddenly ashamed to let her see his hands – they were taking their time to return to normal, as were his teeth and presumably, his eyes.

“Where’s… where’s Grams? Where’s Roy?” she blurted, trying to regroup.

Dante looked over her shoulder and up towards the top of the stairs, uncertain. Roy might still be lying on the street outside, trying to recover. He… he actually hadn’t thought about Magda when he rushed into the house. Only Tess had been his immediate concern.

“Roy’s hurt, outside. I don’t know if he got up,” he confessed. “I…I don’t know where Magda is. Look—“ he said quickly. “We gotta get you outta here, Twig, c’mon—“

He took her hand but she pulled away from him, mumbling in confusion and started up the stairs.

“No—I can’t—I can’t. That thing—it told me—I have to… go to him,” she muttered. “Grams…I have to find Grams…!”

Dante could only rush up the stairs after her, suddenly concerned that she wasn’t fully aware of what she was doing.

“Tess, no! Wait, what are you talking—Wait! _Tess_!”

Upstairs, most of the bodies of the demon madmen were gone, mere scraggly remains rapidly vanishing into dark stains on the floor. Dante watched Tess frantically look into the lounge and then dive at the door to Magda’s quarters – it was wrecked and buckled as if something had exploded outwards. She grabbed the handle and tried to turn it, only succeeding in rattling it fruitlessly.

She seemed ready to try and blow it open with fire but Dante pulled her back and kicked it down with a crash instead. Tess rushed in and Dante was right behind her. They vaulted over parts of the ceiling blocking the way to find Magda’s sitting room in chaos. A battle had evidently taken place here, with the furniture all pushed against the walls violently as though from an invisible hand, the walls were littered with cracks, blood and the dark stains of demon ichor. Smudged circles of runes were scorched into the floor, remains of chalk and charcoal patterns everywhere.

 _“There’s no way she’s here…”_ Dante thought.

They followed the trail of devastation; Dante looked into a wrecked small kitchen and then nearly jumped out of his skin at Tess’ horrified scream. He ducked into the room she’d entered –a derelict bedroom—and found her petrified before a sight that made his jaw slack.

Magda’s body hung from a rope tied to the ceiling-light hook on the wrecked ceiling. Her head hung at an impossible angle and what was left of her face was fixed in horror – her eyes wide under the blood caked on her face, the tongue rolled out and bloated as she dangled there, slowly spinning with the eerie creaks of the rope. Some of her hair had been torn off her head so viciously the front of the scalp had been nearly ripped off the skull.

Dante felt bile rise to his mouth as he realized that the demons had tried to quite literally _tear her apart_ with their bare hands – her clothes were torn apart and her skin was scored with claw marks; one of her arms had been ripped clean off. Her lower half lay on the floor in a pool of blood and fresh drops still dribbled from the top half. He didn’t want to look at the large split down the middle of her chest or what was missing from the exposed gore.

Tess took in the scene of horror and sounded a strange, incomprehensible little noise and without warning her eyes rolled back into their sockets and she fainted. Dante was able to catch her before she crumbled to the floor and swallowed hard to keep himself calm. He shook his head in disbelief – but then again, he shouldn’t have been surprised. This gore was almost too much, even for him and yet he knew it in his bones that this was to be expected. This is what demons did to witches. He felt rattled. This is what those sly urges he felt were. The smell of witch blood should’ve tempted him but he was so utterly indignant that he battered it all down.

He didn’t blame Tess for fainting. She’d just been through an immensely stressful attack from demons for the _second_ time in her life, being positively face to face with a horrid demon, getting pawed by that… that specter and now this. Lesser people would break down entirely and lose their minds.

He felt exhausted suddenly. He didn’t want to be in this room any more than Tess did. But he had no idea where to take her. Roy had said ‘get her out’ but go _where?_ Nowhere was safe. He could feel it in the air, behind the copper tang of blood in the air, behind the eerie silence outside. The city was under a spell of whatever it was that had stirred under it.

Dante breathed out tiredly and gently picked Tess up in his arms. He carried her out of Magda’s rooms and hesitated at the lobby. Looking about he saw a corner, behind where Roy’s desk had been, where the staircase turned, creating a sheltered little nook of sorts. It afforded a good view of the door and the lobby but they wouldn’t be exposed. It would do until she rallied. He carried her there, took Rebellion off his back and planted it into the floor. He let his back rest on the wall and slowly slid down to a seat, pulling her against him and tugging his coat so it’d cover her a little, a futile comfort in this madness. He sighed and let the back of his head touch the wall and stared at the wall across him blankly.

There was nothing he could do now but wait; wait for her to wake up, wait for Roy to pick himself up, wait for the demons to come for them again – he angrily asked himself what could be done. He tried to sort through his feelings but gave up quickly. There was no sorting though his remorse, his anger, his concern, his confusion.

He gulped, trying to choke out a horrible thought that dawned on him. This… this had all happened to him before. The same sounds, the same sights, the same smells, the same ferric tang in the air from the blood, the same screaming.

When his mother died, it was all the same.

“ _At least this time… I protected someone,”_ he thought bitterly and without realizing, squeezed Tess against him softly.


	16. No More Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Dante and Tess decide they will not go down without a fight.

They were hidden there for mere few minutes when Dante heard the creaks of the floorboards again. He instantly yanked Ivory out and pointed it at the front door with a wild look on his face, suddenly acutely aware that his teeth had not quite returned to normal and his nails were still fairly sharp.

He lowered it immediately. Roy limped in, looking about as bad as he had when Dante left him; bloody, battered and his breathing came in pained rasps. He was wide-awake now, but in a bad condition. He was no longer bleeding and his face looked less like minced meat but his left eye was still closed in a permanent grimace. Dante shivered – it didn’t look like it would ever heal. Roy scanned the lounge anxiously then noticed Dante putting away his gun. The boy stared back at Roy with a worried frown and clutched Tess closer to him. He wasn’t sure whether she’d come round from her swoon.

Roy breathed out in relief. “By the stars, you’re both alright,” he quavered. “By the stars.”

His gaze wandered around the space for a moment just to stare at the door to Magda’s quarters and then back at Dante… but he was unable to ask.

Dante gulped, amazed at how hard it was for his voice to come up. “She’s… she’s dead,” he said. “It’s really bad.”

Roy shut his eye and sighed; his shoulders seemed to crumble. He hobbled further in. “You kids look awful,” he mumbled with worry.

He walked into Magda’s rooms and then out, almost as if he’d been scared out by the sights within. He looked at Dante. “Stay here. I’ve set a new circle of protection. It’ll hold for a while.”

Dante started. Roy was so battered that if he’d tied it to himself again, Dante was worried another assault might finish the old man off. “But you’re—“

“I’ll be fine,” Roy said forcefully. “Nobody will bother us; I have a feeling this exertion is all that our foe could manage for now. And the city is… suspended. I don’t know how to put it. _Stay here_. Try to rest—look after her, please. I have to take care of…”

Roy trailed off, looking back into Magda’s rooms and Dante just stared back blankly with a dull nod. His mind was racing and he found it hard to concentrate on what Roy was saying. Roy limped into Magda’s rooms once more and lifted the damaged door, leaning it against the frame as best he could. Dante shivered suddenly, pushing away the horrible image of Magda’s mutilated body with her heart ripped out. Roy had to deal with that.

He felt numb. He was grateful to feel numb otherwise he thought he might find some corner and scream for a long time. He also dreaded the thought that his demonic side might be seeking out the smell of witch blood, the sweetness underlying the taste of pennies –

 _“Stop it,”_ he told himself.

But then a worse thought forced itself into the fore. If he’d fallen for that distractive fight even for a little longer, Tess might – no, _would_ have suffered the same gruesome fate. Perhaps even worse, she was young, she had potential and she had… spark and demons would _like_ that. Just like he did. He ground his teeth and heard them creak in his silent indignation and struggle to hold down an audible bellow.

He forced his eyes shut and heard Roy’s tired footsteps in the rooms beyond and soft thumps. He bit his lip. Roy was cutting Magda down. How could he be so calm and stick to what _needed_ to be done? He envied him. Dante wanted to scream and he wanted to take it all out on someone. He didn’t even think he’d care so much about Magda’s fate. He’d seen people die before and had barely blinked. Magda had been a pain in the ass from day one but even so, her death was… unfair. All that rage and that brutality. Demons rarely got that excessive. It was _spiteful._

It seemed like hours before Roy walked out into the lobby again, looking smaller and more tired than ever – Dante swore that he looked years older. He and the djinn stood staring at each other silently, sharing their miserable thoughts without words. Dante was still holding Tess, who hadn’t moved at all. Roy looked frightened. He opened his mouth to say something but shut it and instead glanced at the broken front door with a scowl.

There was nothing he could say or do to comfort either of them or even himself. Instead he grunted quietly and limped towards the door.

“I’ll stay outside. There’s… there’s a lot to be done. But for now I need to keep watch. And I have wounds to lick. I have work to do…” Roy muttered quietly.

Dante watched him go and bit his lips. Then Tess finally stirred and startled him.

“Tess?” he asked in a whisper.

She inhaled sharply and grew tense, trying to register where she was. All she remembered was seeing Magda’s body and even that felt like a bad dream. She half-expected to wake up any time soon but she knew the harsh reality. The sensation of demonic presence near her made her almost pull away, screaming but the warmth and familiarity made her stop. It was just Dante, holding her close. The wrecked house was silent around them.

“This was all real,” she muttered quietly. “I’m not… I’m not having a nightmare.”

Dante wanted to say something, but his mind was empty. 

She breathed out and her shoulders slumped; she seemed to shrink. Some other time she might’ve had a few choice words about being held so closely but her spark was… gone. She was vaguely aware that she was still in shock and the full impact of what she’d witnessed would hit soon. She would start to feel.

It hit her sooner than she thought it would. It sunk in: Magda was dead. Her family was _gone._ Just like that, she found herself alone and the weight of it crushed her. She tried to suppress the memories, the flood of emotions and sensations from the first time she’d survived such an event and felt her chest ache. Her throat hurt as a lump grew there and left her unable to talk or even to breathe. She suddenly sounded a sorrowful moan and pulled away from Dante to hug her knees and tuck her face onto them. She started to cry, her eyes burning with the tears that she couldn’t hold back.

Tess loathed herself, loathed her last few days with Magda and everything that had happened. For all their problems and constant arguing, they were family. Despite her resent, Magda _loved_ her, even in that bitter, uncertain way. Magda had been there to teach her, to bring her mother closer – she’d done everything she could do, still struggling with her resent and her grudge towards Tess’ father. Magda had tried to protect her until the end and Tess knew she had fled like a coward when Magda shouted at her to flee when the attack happened.

Tess never thanked her. She’d let her frustration and anger and bitterness blind her and now it was all too late. She was angry and sad. How could Magda do this to her? How could _she_ have done this to Magda? She regretted her last bitter words to her and cried.

Dante didn’t want to let go of her when she moved away but realized it’d be futile to try and hold on. He understood, better than he wanted to. He knew what it felt like to find the pitiful remains of your family. In fact, it all rolled in his head too much to even resist going over everything yet again. He needed air. He needed to step away. He reluctantly stood up slowly, looking away from her, ashamed of himself. He could think of nothing that he might do to comfort her but she looked so lost in her sorrow that he felt completely useless.

His voice came out shaky. “I’m… gonna check on Roy,” he managed. Feeling completely helpless he added: “I’m sorry, Tess.”

Seeing her huddled on the ground, crying, he realized he’d never quite seen her break for real before – he’d seen her upset and he’d seen her angry but this was  beyond that. And it hurt to watch it. He didn’t know what to do with that feeling, he didn’t know why it was there but it _hurt._ He caught himself thinking that he would give anything to stop her tears. Helpless and confused, he softly walked to the front door to allow her to grieve without an audience – he assumed that’s what she wanted. He couldn’t bear to be there and feel useless, anyway.

Outside the sky was dark and grim but it was neither night nor day. Time felt like it crawled along unwillingly. It was cold and damp. He found Roy sitting on the front steps, elbows on his knees and cradling his head. He’d wrapped a piece of what looked like torn bedsheet around his head to cover his missing eye.

Dante gulped and trudged down the steps to sit beside him.

“Hey… Roy? Are you… okay?” he asked.

Roy grunted vaguely. “I’ll be fine,” he said and sounded frustrated. “It’s not like I’ll miss the eye, I have one left. What are you doing out here, go back inside, damn it. Don’t… don’t leave her alone. This isn’t over.”

“I don’t know what to do for her,” Dante admitted, staring at the pavement. “She’s in pieces.”

“There’s nothing I can do for her, either. I know she won’t even talk to me,” Roy insisted. “But I know she wants _you_ there.”

Dante looked at him. “But… why? I can’t be an audience, damn it.”

“Because you _understand,”_ Roy said sharply. He sounded upset about that. “Neither of you _should_ _have_ to understand this sort of thing but you do. Believe me, she needs that. I’ll be fine, you needn’t worry about me.”

He put his hand on Dante’s shoulder. “This is just the tip of the iceberg. Magda dying has brought up problems I prayed we’d never need to face. She knows it. I don’t know what Tess’ll do alone, anymore. She likes you, dammit. She needs to know you’re there.”

“I…” Dante sulked. Then he shook his head. “Fine, alright. But… how the hell did you get this hurt? I thought you were—“

“What, powerful?” Roy grunted. “Invincible? I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Dante snapped.

Roy looked back at him and sighed. His shoulders sagged. “Our protections failed. I felt the first attack and I thought we could prepare but… they all failed together. I felt it like a sledgehammer. It stunned me so when all those people – no, those demons came pouring in I was barely stumbling outside. I should’ve been alright but the moment that big one showed up… it just…”       

“What happened?”

Roy’s face grew hard and he glared at nothing. “I’m not entirely sure. It felt like our protections started to unravel – like pulling the loose thread of a sweater, honestly,” he said. “It happened so suddenly that it wreaked havoc with me. Like something ripped at me from the inside and the next thing I know, I’m vomiting blood and getting half my face chewed off by those creatures.”

Dante cringed. “They blitzed you…”

Roy smiled tartly. “Aptly put. Yes. I don’t know how they did it, yet, but the circles collapsing like that is what did me in. We’re lucky I managed to take out so many of them before I went down. If only that ugly thing hadn’t gotten away…”

He growled and shook his head. “This is pointless – just go inside. Please. I’m exhausted.”

Dante scowled. “Jeez, alright, don’t need to get snappy,” he grumbled. “Like it or not I’m here now, you can’t order me around like a kid after I took care of the demon that poked your eye out.”

He instantly regretted it because Roy grunted and looked at him suddenly with an indignant, almost angry look of surprise. Dante breathed out and looked away.

“I’m going back inside,” he muttered and stood up.

“Dante,” Roy said suddenly and Dante stopped, looking over his shoulder. “Don’t… don’t blame yourself,” the old man said softly. “This was never your fault. Don’t let anyone or anything make you think that it was. You were caught up in this but it was _not your fault._ None of this is and _never_ blame yourself for it.”  

Dante looked away and nodded. How Roy realized that Dante was already starting to question whether he was to blame… he’d never know. He shrugged it off and went into the lobby, trying to ignore the unsettling fact that Roy looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown. Sure, Roy’d always been a bit grumpy but Dante never thought of him as someone to get overwhelmed. He always assumed that Roy could handle anything life and demons could throw at him – he’d certainly always sounded that way.  

Now he just sounded tired and old and concerned.

When he went into the lobby again, Tess was still in the corner, under the stairs. He heard a soft sob from her curled form. She was as he left her, hugging her legs and seemingly oblivious to everything and the sight of her made that helpless feeling tug at him again. He didn’t think he was much affected by the sorrow of other people – but then again, Tess wasn’t quite ‘other people’ anymore. Tess… mattered, somehow, in ways that people hadn’t mattered to him since he lost his family. Roy too, mattered, and seeing him so hurt and troubled made Dante upset.

Had he consciously kept people away for this reason? Because he didn’t want these feelings?

But here they were. These people had accepted him into their lives and in fact had been downright nice and decent to him. Sure, Magda had been angry and bitter and sometimes overbearing but in her own weird way, she’d respected him and even accepted his presence. Roy got over his reservations soon enough and Tess never even cared. Even when she found out about his legacy she still wouldn’t be cowed and she still gave him a piece of her mind (and all of her fist, at some point).

He crouched down next to her and gently touched her hand. “Tess? Need anything?”

He felt stupid. What kinda question was that?

Tess looked up from her crying and her red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, the exhausted and scared expression just made his chest twist strangely. She looked confused and miserable and there was something in her countenance of an utter loneliness that few could comprehend. Then she reached out at his sleeve, her hand clutching uncertainly.

“Please, stay with me,” she uttered weakly. “I'm… I'm scared—that you're going to leave.” She was still crying and trying to control herself. “I feel like everyone...everyone’s left.”

Dante’s jaw slacked a little bit and his brows knitted together. Roy had been right; she looked so relieved to see him there, in her moment of grief. He sat himself down against the wall once again and she needed little invitation to curl against him while he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She rested her head on his shoulder.

“It’s ok Tess. I’m not going anywhere,” he muttered.

She sounded a tiny noise and a relieved sigh and seemed to relax against him. Her crying slacked a little, bar the occasional sniffle. Soon she was composed enough to speak.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I’m always like this, scared of being left alone. You were right, you know… calling me miserable back then. That’s why I was so glad that you knew what we were, we didn’t have to hide anymore.”

He had nothing to say to that except absently squeeze her shoulder softly. He cast around for a subject and helplessly settled on something that honestly, he didn’t think she’d want to talk about, but they had to.

“Hey… that ghostly guy… what was that?” he ventured.

Tess shivered and needed a moment before answering. “It’s… it’s the demon that started it all. He’s been reaching out through people and demons… He’s… he’s waiting for me to go to him. He said I can’t run,” she quavered. “I… I’m so tired.”

She said nothing further and Dante didn’t think it wise to press her. Frankly, he’d almost expected that answer. At least Tess sounded like she was calming down and he let her rest against him. Soon enough he was certain she actually fell asleep. He didn’t blame her; she must have been exhausted from her experiences, from crying and just from the shock. He rested his head against hers softly and absently stroked her hair.

“I don’t fucking care what it wants,” he mumbled. “I’m not leaving you.”

There was a lot he had to think about. He was worried about what was eating Roy, what was this ‘work’ he seemed to be dreading, even whether they should be worried about another attack.

Above all, though, he felt angry. He wanted to go and find this demon that caused all this and kill it, for hurting him and Roy and Tess. Until now his pursuit of demons was strictly about him, nothing but a means to earn a living and a way to settle a score of his own. Sure, he’d killed demons for others before but this time… it was personal in a different way. He was deeply determined to go after a demon for the sake of someone else, with no reward in sight.

As he turned it over and over in his mind he finally felt his exertions and the stress catching up with him. Combined with this strangely comforting feeling of being huddled up with Tess like this, he slipped into sleep too, his head resting on hers.

When Tess woke up at last, several hours must have passed, because as she looked up and out of the wrecked front door, she saw the sun well on its way towards the horizon – dusk approached rapidly. She stifled a huff and stirred a bit, feeling Dante’s arm around her. She smiled faintly. A blanket that had somehow been spared from the destruction had been draped over them. Roy’s doing, no doubt. Surely enough, she saw the cat curled against the wall near them. She winced a little – his eye was sealed shut under an ugly, raw scar.

He was wide awake and looked back at her. The djinn didn’t speak, merely half-closed his remaining eye, seemingly content that she was awake. The lobby was weakly lit – the ceiling light still had some feeble life left in it.

Her stirring caused Dante to wake up and she felt him sit up a bit and relax his hold on her. He looked around the lobby, somewhat disappointed, almost, to find himself back in this depressing reality. He too winced to see the condition of Roy’s face. Roy just stared back and flicked his tail in recognition of an unspoken apology for words flung carelessly.

Dante looked caught Tess’ gaze and they shared a look before he asked quietly: “You okay?” 

Tess nodded, slowly. “I'm okay,” she said.

Though she still looked sad, she seemed steadier and calmer than before. Roy uncurled himself and walked over to them, prompting Tess to gently caress his velvety head. He purred briefly.

“Tess. I’m going to have to go see the coven now,” he said grimly. “We can’t put it off for long. I’ll try to talk some sense into them.”

Tess seemed to stiffen but nodded. “Right,” she replied. “Just don’t…don’t tell them about… you know.”

Dante felt her shrug and she seemed to almost lean against him again. Roy’s gaze travelled to him and then back at her. “Yes. I know. You understand what it means, though? It won’t be easy.”

Tess hesitated briefly. “I know. But it… it has to be done, I guess.”

“Wait, what?” Dante blurted.

They ignored him and Tess grabbed his hand. Roy sighed. “Alright. I don’t know how long it’ll take. But I know I can’t stop you two from doing whatever it is you want to do. Just promise me you’ll look after yourselves until I make it back – I _will_ catch up with you,” he said, and turned to head for the door. He stopped at the doorstep and looked back at them. “Good luck.”

He vanished through the door and Tess breathed out deeply. “Well that’s that, then.”

Dante blinked. “Tess? What the hell did he mean, ‘good luck’, what are we—“

She huffed. “Roy’s going to speak with the coven that my family used to belong to, once.”

“Used to?” he echoed. “Why?”

She hesitated. “They… banished us when my granddad, Sergio, objected to some decisions made. He gave them a piece of his mind about how things were run. They called our family heretics and kicked us out. However… Grams was trying to talk them into accepting us again. She thought they could protect me better. So, now Roy’s got to try and seal the deal,” she said and scoffed weakly. “It’s going to be a mess; they have no reason to agree to it lightly.”

Dante frowned at how apprehensive she sounded about that. He felt uneasy; Roy had wordlessly entrusted him with her protection until he returned. And yet, he wanted more than anything to go find that demon and put it down for what it had done. He was very reluctant to leave Tess until Roy’s return but he felt that losing any time in getting after it would be counting against him. Then there was Roy’s cryptic ‘good luck’ – just what did the djinn expect them to do?

“Listen…” Tess said, interrupting his thoughts. “We don’t have a lot of time. If the coven agrees, they’ll expect me to turn myself over to them. I won’t have another chance to find this demon and kill it. I need to finish this… and I need you to help me.”

Dante almost felt his jaw hit the floor. “Tess, are you out of your mind?” he blurted. “You barely survived this mess, you can’t—“

Tess pulled away and grabbed a handful of his shirt, looking him in the eye. “Please,” she said quietly. “I have no choice. That thing… it’s marked me. I don’t know what it wants but it won’t just let me leave.” Her grip loosened and she looked away. “Besides… I _need_ to kill it. I won’t stand it if it gets away with what it’s done.”

She sounded bitter and angry suddenly. “I can’t… I can’t run anymore. I’m tired of hiding. I want to do _something._ I don’t care if I die in the process, at least I’ll have done something before I come under anyone’s rules.”

“Tess, no. It’s too dangerous. This demon – you saw what it did to Magda!” he protested. “If I hadn’t come back in time it would’ve done the same to you! Don’t… don’t ask me to put you in danger like that, what am I supposed to tell Roy if you die!?” he said hotly.

Tess scowled at him. “I can’t believe _you’re_ being such a fusspot now,” she exclaimed. “Roy… will understand. He doesn’t like it, but he knows that I need to do this. And don’t lie; I know you want to go after it. Dante, _please_ ,” she begged. “I need your help.”

Dante gulped. She just had to plead with him like that. “Tess… I’m not even sure what to do. That thing’s a ghost—“

“That was just a projection, something it used to provoke us and goad me on. We have to find where it is,” she interrupted.

“What did it tell you?”

She again looked away. “It… it gloated about doing all this. It knows about me, about my dad. It gloated about breaking free. If it does and it comes for us—“ she cringed. “No, I can’t let it. We have to stop it while it’s still weak enough. I don’t think it wants to kill me. It… it needs me for something.”

Dante frowned. “What the heck could it need you for? That’s all the more reason to keep you out of this.”

“I think it’s for my stupid sight,” she growled. “You have to understand. It made it personal for me. It’s after me, it killed my grandmother, it hurt Roy – it hurt you.”

He was startled to hear that.

“I can’t turn and run from it,” she said. “I refuse to be some fucking demon’s prey.”

Dante blinked at her cold detachment and angry determination. She seemed to have aged ten years over the span of a few hours. He wasn’t happy. He knew this demon was still contained enough to be fought but he really didn’t want to go along with her plan. He could do this himself, it was _his_ responsibility.

“Tess, I don’t care what it wants, this is dangerous and even stupid—“

“Dante, stop it. You can’t change my mind. This thing _fed_ on all this insanity that’s been happening this entire time. And I didn’t see it soon enough to stop it,” she growled. “It’s still trapped and had to exert itself to reach out to us. We have a small chance to win.”

Dante winced. She looked angry now and he felt like perhaps she had a point and besides, he felt stupid being Captain Cautious when she was the one acting so decisive. Chances of victory were slim… but at least they’d go down fighting.

“You really think so, Twig?” he asked and huffed. “I’m not gonna talk you out of this, am I?”

Tess shook her head. “No. This thing… it tore my heart out. I’m not going to be satisfied until I’ve done the same,” she said with a trembling, quiet lethality.       

Dante was struck by her tone but he knew exactly how that felt. He felt it all the time, hidden under layers and layers of attitude and cockiness, but always burning away at his heart. He made a decision that he never regretted. He let go of Tess and stood up, stretched and flexed his neck with a loud crack sound and a satisfied grunt.

“In that case, Twig… come on. Let’s do this,” he said, offering her a hand.

They stared at each other momentarily and Dante contemplated that for the first time in his so-far short career as a demon hunter, he had backup. _A partner_. So there was no more room for sloppy and careless actions because it wasn’t just his life on the line anymore.

“Well come on then, let’s do this,” he said calmly.

“So you’re done trying to talk me out of this? No taking back,” she said and grabbed his hand to pull herself up. “No second thoughts.”

Dante picked up Rebellion and secured it to his back.

“Nope. I should know you by now. When you get something into your head, there’s no stoppin’ ya. Even if I tied you down, you’d find a way to come with me anyway,” he chuckled. “So yeah, I guess it’s for the best. Might as well keep you where I can watch out for you. Not to mention, if you’re there, I won’t be able to slack off,” he added cheekily.

She smiled slowly, the way the sky clears after a long storm. It started small and uncertain but then it grew. She rarely smiled that way and he felt a little giddy to see it.

Then she looked towards the door to Magda’s rooms. “First of all… we’re finally going to find this asshole. Now that it reached out and directly touched me… I can do it. Come here,” she said, moving aside the damaged door and going inside once more.

Dante worried about her returning to the scene of the massacre so soon but when she walked in her gaze was steel and her jaw set willfully and he rather admired her pluck. He never felt brave enough to face the site of his tragedy since it had happened. Tess hesitated and then went over to a table that had been blown across the room and instructed him to drag it to a relatively clear spot of the room, while she searched through a nearby chest of drawers.

He did as asked but still glanced over his shoulder once or twice, feeling uneasy tingles down his spine like the old crone was still around, watching them. It’d be just like Magda to do so and as ever keep her gaze hard and impossible to read. He hoped she approved, even grudgingly. While Tess grumbled irritably at her apparently futile search, he poked around a little bit, absently righting a fallen cupboard. He studied its contents for anything useful but all he could see were talismans and manuscripts with symbols unknown to him, jars filled with dry leaves or roots, bottles of powders and other knick-knacks of practical witchcraft that were rather lost on him.

“Hey, if you see any white chalk lying around, grab it for me,” she said and moved past him, clutching a map in one hand.

Dante cast about him idly and indeed found some in a small tin box inside an open drawer. He turned to her, seeing her rifle through the remains of a large cabinet. She picked out a delicate chain pendant with a purple stone shaped like a wedge. She also found a leather scabbard for her dagger, and secured the whole ensemble to the small of her back at her belt.

“Okay, I think I’m good,” she said, beckoning him over and spread the map on the table.

“Chalk,” he said absently and tossed the tin box at her as he approached.

Tess raised her hand and caught it out of the air, hardly looking up from the map. “Thanks. Okay, I’m pretty sure I can make this work, I just need your help.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, looking at a map of the city.

“Scrying. Grams used to say I’m garbage at it, but I think what I needed was a clearer picture of what I’m looking for. Or contact. And I sure got it,” she said grimly. “Put your hand over mine, you’ve been in contact with it too.”

She held the pendant over the map so the stone hung over it, swaying gently at the end of its chain. Dante sheepishly obliged, by now having enough of an understanding that witchcraft was no hedge practice. Tess took a deep breath and started to speak a few fluttering words that trebled with power. Dante felt a light tingle down his spine as her words grew in volume, coiled around the room and suddenly stretched out, flying like birds and _searching_.

The pendant’s stone started to move, weakly at first but then started to swing erratically and then in circles over and over, faster and faster even though he was certain neither of them moved their hands. The stone sparked with power and he felt it straining and searching until the pendant flew from her hand and the tip of the stone struck a point on the map with such force that the stone cracked, making them both jump back and eliciting a startled yelp from Tess. The tip of the stone stood there on its point, perfectly balanced for a second or too, the fell on its side and rolled away.

“Where’d it point?” Dante blurted. “What’s there?”

Tess studied the map and raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be damned.”

“Is that an asylum?” Dante asked, almost scoffing.

Tess tapped the map where the stone had pointed. “It _used to be_ , anyway, it’s been closed and abandoned since the Second World War.”

Dante shook his head. “A demon that propagates insanity, in a nuthouse,” he said. “That’s stupid.”

“It sure is. I wonder why,” she muttered, taking some chalk from the tin and wrapping them in a piece of cloth she tore off the tattered curtains and stowing them in her pocket. “Ready to go?”

He looked at her dubiously. “Sure you don’t wanna grab anything else? Chalk and a toothpick of a knife ain’t going to be much help.”

Tess smiled ruefully. “I wish. We don’t have time for me to rifle through everything here and even if we did, I’d have to research everything. You work with a sword and guns… I have to work with simpler things. With what I know.”

They stepped out into the lobby again and silently both stopped and looked at the doorway. Dante felt that the moment they stepped out of the door there would be no turning back. One or the other or both might end up dead. He glanced at her as her hand searched for his. She looked pale and behind that determined set of her jaw he saw the spark of doubt in her eyes. Something in his chest twisted oddly. She looked up at him and without speaking they just came together. He pulled her close and their lips just met; just like that. She felt cold but her lips were warm. It was over in seconds but it felt everlasting, on the warmth left on his lips and the red dusted across the bridge of her nose.

The last lightbulb surviving in the lobby flickered and gave out with a small crack as their foreheads touched. They said nothing for a moment and then Tess smiled weakly.

“Needed some extra courage?” she managed.

He smiled at her. “Think of it as ‘forward payment’ for my services,” he joked. He carefully avoided the thought that creeped in the corners of his mind: That he might never get to kiss her again if either of them died.

They stepped apart with small snorts and finally stepped out of the door, to a city silent and eerily still. The air was cold and sharp, filled with moist frost that hung in the air on their breath. The melting snow was dirty and covered the ground like a canker. They’d only taken a couple of steps away from the building when a loud crash made them both jump and Dante whirled around, guns in hand and pointed them at the threat—

…nothing more than some debris falling into the lobby from a hole in its ceiling.

They both lay silent for a moment, staring at the building and Dante put his guns away. They tried to play it off with a snort each but there was no avoiding the fact that they were jumpy.

They were scared.

They set off and they didn’t need to speak to know they were being watched. The Bloodgoyles lurked in the corners of their vision, hidden but watching, a thousand eyes fixed on their determined progress and Dante fought the urge to reach for his guns again, but didn’t want to give the demon the satisfaction. Grimly, he admitted that Tess had been right. They really could never have run or hid from this.

It was just as well that they didn’t intend to.


	17. Creatures of Filth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes breach the stronghold.

Neither of them spoke on the way to the asylum. Tess and Dante just walked along, sticking close to each other and doing their best to ignore the hundreds of peering eyes focused on them.

Bloodgoyles lurked and watched from the corners of their vision; they perched on buildings, vanishing in a flutter of slimy red wings when attention was directed at them. They simply reappeared elsewhere, just out of sight. Rarely, a hellish bird or two would fly closer to observe and sometimes the pair would see the demons fly ahead and wait for them. Their persistent escort made Dante so irritable that on a few occasions he drew a gun and without even looking over to aim, he would fire a couple of rounds off at them. Once or twice it would actually take down one of them with repeated shots, but the rest would simply disperse, shrieking, only to return afterwards.

The struck demons crashed onto the streets loudly and shrieks filled the air, but they caused no reaction. They never attacked, just watched and ensured the teenagers were moving. The streets were empty and silent; there was no sight of life in the city. Street lights were weak and the traffic lights cycled idly through their patterns for no one. They were seemingly all alone in the city. Dante didn’t like it; it was the overwhelming demonic presence that was doing it, it paralyzed everything and it certainly ruffled his hackles. All there was to remind them that life carried on was the faint noise of urban ambience that drifted in from beyond the demon’s influence.  

Tess never joined Dante in his outbursts. She seemed too wary to draw attention to herself and just stayed near him.  He couldn’t blame her; they were headed straight into the lion’s den, uncertain of what to expect.

Time felt vague and neither was sure how long it took them to reach the site – likely yet another effect of the influence of demons leaking into the human world. They knew they were in the right spot from the sudden oppressive feeling that greeted them as they approached, both beckoning them to and repelling them from the place, and the way the murky clouds seemed to swirl with purpose over the area.

“This is it,” Tess said quietly.

They studied the place without speaking, starting with the tall, imposing brick wall topped with wicked poniards. Beyond it, behind a row of twisted, bare trees stood a large, forbidding building that looked more like a state prison rather than an institute for the care of the mentally ill. This place was built to keep people in, for good. Doors and windows, even those with heavy bars, were roughly boarded over; the general impression being that this place had not been tended to in a long time.

The entire place was dark… except for some eerie wisps of light that seemed to flicker between the cracks of the boarded up windows and the soft sounds carried by the wind, sometimes like wails, sometimes like cackles flitting between thick walls – were they real? Or were their minds playing tricks?

Dante grimaced. The place put _him_ on edge, even though he’d be damned if he showed that.

“Why do demons always pick creepy-ass places to haunt?” he groused. “What happened to a nice bungalow?”

Tess snorted suddenly and he had the impression she wasn’t expecting that. He smiled stiffly at her when she looked up.

“Well, let’s go get ‘im,” he said and they started by climbing over the outer wall.   

Tess looked apprehensively up at the building and Dante suspected she could see a lot more than he did. She looked at him, frowning and then back at the building.

“There’s… a lot of lost souls here. They’ve been warped by the demon. We’ll have to be careful. If we’re lucky, they won’t be interested in us.”

They examined the building to determine where to enter from. The doors were boarded over and Dante felt he could easily blow them open with Rebellion and a few kicks. Tess however, had other ideas.

“That’s probably what the demon expects. I have an idea, let’s trip up its plans,” she said, tugging him along by the arm towards the side.

“But that’ll take out all the fun,” he joked.

Still… as much as he would like to spring whatever trap might be waiting for them and power through it, he had Tess to think about. Discretion, after all, was the better part of valour. He kept a sharp eye out for any potential threats. Bar a few Bloodgoyles perched near the top of the building, everything seemed quiet. He wondered why. Did the demon feel the need to rally its troops inside the building? Or was it just lulling them into a false sense of security? He wondered what Tess was planning. He kind of liked how she could think outside the box.

“Roy once told me this place started as a prison for the legally insane,” she said quietly. “How it ended up as a hospital of any kind is anyone’s guess. Who knows how many have lived and died here—ah, this will do.”

She found a ground-floor wall that was relatively intact and free of windows or doors. The aged, peeling plaster did little to hide the deep cracks in the wall. She leaned against the wall closely, put her eat against it and tapped it several times. Seemingly satisfied, she retrieved a piece of chalk from her pocket.

“They likely won’t expect us here,” she said and smiled a bit. “I… was teaching myself this trick to try and break out of Grams grounding me. Hopefully I can put it to better use here.”

Dante watched as she traced a large rectangle on the wall, starting from the very bottom of the wall and ending back to it. She scrawled a series of symbols across the top and sides and then another one in the middle and pressed her hand over it. Dante felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck tingle when she started to speak, crumbling words falling from her lips like draining sand. The lines on the wall pulsed and Dante had the feeling they were pushing against some dark, awful force. He heard it susurrating under the surface, like a snake sliding under leaves, whispering to him—

He snapped out of it when Tess tapped the middle symbol three times with her knuckles and the surface of the wall seemed to ripple gently with every tap. On the third hit, the block of wall she had traced with the chalk made a crumbling, gritty noise, and slowly swung open like a door on hinges.

Tess looked at him and then gestured grandly at the aperture. “After you,” she said sweetly.

Dante tried to look unimpressed but couldn’t help a smirk. “Neat trick, Twig,” he said and walked on through.

He stepped into a dimly lit room, drawing his guns just in case. Tess followed him closely and they found themselves in a crammed, dingy-looking room that was as hot as a sauna. Behind them, the ‘door’ groaned shut slowly. There was heavy machinery of sorts in there and they immediately realized they found themselves in a laundry room, lined with large industrial washing machines. A light fixture flickered coldly above them. Oddly enough, one of the large machines was working, chugging quietly in a rattling, slow pace. Layers upon layers of dust and cobwebs covered every surface.

“I thought you said this was abandoned,” Dante said. “Why the hell would that thing be working?”

“This place must still get power,” she said.

They peered closer into the dirty glass surface of the working machine and instantly regretted it, pulling away from it in a hurry. A dead body in _bits_ was crammed in there, spinning endlessly in a soup of filthy water and decomposing sludge.

“Gross--!” Tess blurted.

Dante scowled. “Well… someone put ‘em there,” he muttered. “Might be something human here after all. Any clues what to do?”

She shook her head. “No. I guess we wing it. There’s… too much demonic presence here. I can’t really tell where to go. Maybe I’ll get used to it, though. Let’s start by getting out of this room, first.”

Dante nodded, although with a scowl. She was right: there _was_ a lot of demonic power just saturated into the air, though he knew that by the standards of what he’d known, it was still fairly mild. He should be considering that it might eventually overwhelm her but all he really felt at the moment was how it made his very skin tingle with excitement. This was his native element, whether he liked it or not.

They approached the door at the other end of the room, passing more industrial washing machines, all of them silent. It was a fairly sturdy, old-timey hospital door with a round glass aperture, smudged from dirt and what looked like soot. Dante wiped some grime from the glass with his sleeve and peered out. All he could see was a dark corridor so he pushed the door open. It swung with a soft groan and he stepped out.

His feeling that this place was better suited for a prison than a place of healing was reinforced by the dark, claustrophobic nature of the corridor. The air was thick with settling dust and the ground was littered with debris from the walls, dust and dirt and abandoned remains of medical care. A derelict gurney or two lay around, one of them upended on one side, their padded mattresses rotting and their wheels covered thickly in rust. The walls were covered in moisture stains, peeling paint, the odd graffiti and over them all, dry stains of what Dante was pretty sure were blood and a few other body fluids. He narrowed his eyes.

There were few lights in the corridor; Tess was right, there did seem to be power in the building but it appeared spotty. The nearest light was far down the hallway from them, flickering weakly and erratically like the glow of a firefly. It scarcely illuminated enough for them to get a good idea of how long the corridor was, as it vanished unnaturally into the shadows. There were doors peppering the sides. None were shut; some hung wide open like the lazy jaws of a crocodile; others were warped, dented or even broken in two while still others were torn off their hinges completely, lying on the floor nearby.

With two choices ahead of them, Dante narrowed his eyes. He decided to follow the demonic taint to its source, where it was strongest. He motioned for Tess to follow. She cautiously followed, glancing back all the time and then she bit her lip and muttered something.

Dante blinked. “What is it?”

“It’s… weird, this feels almost familiar,” she confessed. “I had some nightmares. About a place like this. I don’t remember much, but the hallways looked just like this.”

Dante wasn’t sure what to make of that but he nodded. They followed the corridor, which seemed to wind dizzyingly and they found themselves in a section of ostensibly rooms, which looked more like prison cells.

“Ugh, I can’t believe people were supposed to come here for treatment. It’s like a dungeon,” Tess said, stepping over a large, dry bloodstain. “I… I wonder what happened here. If a fight happened, where are the bodies?”

“Beats me, Twig. Sometimes demons make a meal outta whatever they kill… or perhaps they were more of these crazies we’ve seen. They don’t leave a lot behind when they bite it,” Dante said.

They meandered through the empty corridors and halls, doubling back now and then when they found themselves in dead ends. The place felt endless. Dante constantly expected something to jump at them but nothing happened, even though they were plagued by eerie noises and invisible presences lurking in the shadows. They’d hear a strange repeated clicking like sharp heels on wood that would vanish as they approached, or distant screaming would travel along the walls to them just to silence as they turned towards it and the distant slam of metal doors would make them shiver.

“Fucking thing is trying to scare us,” Dante muttered.

“Maybe. It might be the spirits of people who’ve died here,” Tess said cautiously.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You think it’s haunted?”

Tess huffed. “Places like this often are. People… die in bad ways. Not necessarily violently. It tends to leave behind angry, desperate souls. The presence of demons makes it even worse for them. It can twist ghosts. One of the first things I learned with my power is to keep away from places like this. It’s a good thing I’ve got some protection…” she muttered, fiddling with her necklace idly.

They sometimes peeked into some of the cells they passed. Tess grabbed his arm suddenly and gasped, turning away from one of them with a disgusted noise. Dante squinted his eyes a little and saw a deformed and decomposing body of what might have been a relatively large man. It was sprawled inside the cell with its chest burst apart as if something had erupted from it. One of its arms was torn from the shoulder.

“Doesn’t even look that old,” Dante groused. “Abandoned or not, people wander in here. Could be they get attracted to the demon when they’re possessed.”

“There are others here, we just haven’t found them yet,” Tess said and shivered. “I’ve had this nagging feeling that we’re being watched.”

They just stared at each other when the sound of a distant wail followed by a low, deep laugh reached them and Dante twitched. This time it was near. More of those wretched possessed creatures, no doubt, and one extra familiar cackle that made Dante snarl quietly. In fact, the thought of its owner and what it had done made him really, _really_ mad. His teeth creaked as he ground them and he felt them sharpen as he drew his sword.

Tess undoubtedly noticed the change in him. “Dante—“

“You might want to stay out of this, Tess. Ain’t something you want to see,” he growled.

He stared down into the darkness of the hall ahead of them. Once upon a time it might’ve been a recreation room or a sun room for the inmates, now it was just an empty space littered with the scant remains of furniture. A lone lamp flickered weakly in the far end and in its flashes of life Dante saw movement. He growled again and brought his sword up at the ready as the demon skulked forward through the floating dust. A throaty laugh came to meet him.

“Back for more, huh?” Dante rumbled. “We’ve got some things to finish, freak.”

“Dante, we’ve been flanked,” Tess said dryly, her back to his.

Dante spared a glance back over his shoulder. Figures moved in the dark from where they’d come from, gleaming single yellow eyes staring out from the dark and low cackles heralding their approach through the shadows. Their footfalls were uncertain but gritty on the aged floor and they emerged from the darkness as if they’d grown out of it, things once identifiably human but now barely retaining any humanity. None looked the same. Some had faces stretched into impossible grins of sadism with shark-like teeth, others were pale, gaunt and bore blank expressions better suited to automatons. The yellow eyes bursting from various bits of their torsos all stared right at them, the silent maws over them grinning evily. They shambled along, dragging long, claw-tipped arms on the ground.

Dante scowled, baring his teeth unintentionally. So many people claimed by this damned demon, their approach brought forth a new wave of demonic power that flooded around him, bubbling in the pit of his stomach and something in him stretched, ever so slightly, towards it.

He snapped his gaze back in front of him, to where the ugly cackle came from. In the flickers of the surviving light, he saw the ugly bastard crawling closer and he _snarled_. It would pay for nearly distracting him.

He heard it’s drawn, shrill wheeze. “We have sssssomething to fiiiinishhhh – _huuurgh_ – boy~oooo,” it crooned and Dante nearly lost it and rushed headlong into it.

Dante cracked a smirk and flexed his neck with a gentle crack and eyed his opponent with an angry smile. “Sure we do, last I remember I wasn’t done kicking your ugly ass!”

He heard Tess’ disgusted yelp – she must’ve looked over his shoulder. “Oh hell. He’s all yours if you want him. I’ll take care of the others. Watch yourself, handsome over there seems to like you.”

He advanced on it, very aware he had to not just kill it but keep it well away from Tess who would have her hands full with the wretches.

Everything happened all at once. The demon barreled down the hall to attack Dante, maw agape and slavering tongue flailing. The insect-like appendages from its back sprung up over-head, its stingers aimed right for him. The rest of the maddened wretches hurtled ahead too in one disorganized mob, trampling over each other in their fury.

Dante ducked under the first swing of the appendages and found himself right where he wanted for his first move: Right under the demon’s belly. Its stingers hit the ground where Dante had stood with a hollow crack of old tile before it reeled back with a screech of pain as he thrust his sword right into its gut before slicing out of its side. In the same fluid motion he drew Ebony and fired off six rounds into the beast’s sternum, taking special care to take out the jaundiced yellow eye glaring out at him from the straightjacketed chest.

The monster staggered backwards from the force of the shots and its appendages shriveled against its back while it thrashed. Dante pushed it back even further by swinging his sword and smashing in the demon’s chest. The same white liquid brimmed up from its wounds, mixed with blood and again it began to clot rapidly.

Meanwhile, Tess halted the attacking madmen by slamming her open palm on the ground. A wave of flame surged and sparked from her hand outwards, rushing into the attacking wretches and knocking them backwards with explosive sparks. The hall filled with the stench of burned, corrupted flesh and the screaming of tortured demons. Before they could regroup, a large tongue of fire sallied forth like a snap and snapped towards the closest creature.

It seared a deep gouge into the creature and as it thrashed in agony, Tess turned and caused an eruption underfoot of another, knocking it down with an angry sizzling noise. A further burst around the head elicited a hideous charring noise as it died instantly. She zipped about with lashes of flame and calculated bursts, keeping them at a manageable distance while dispatching them.

Dante and the demon went at it like crazed animals. The repeated, harsh contact of blade and hardened carapace on the demon’s long appendages echoed everywhere. The floor was full of holes from the demon’s attempts to catch him by surprise and littered with evidence of the demon’s putrid fluids. It would evade some of Dante’s assaults but his dexterity and aim assured him of successful blows. The shambling horror was relentless and Dante grit his teeth and patiently probed its defences for an opening. At last he succeeded in ramming his blade right at its chest, knocking it on its side with a gaping hole in its chest which bubbled and gurgled with blood and white clot. Dante suspected it was starting to wear down as the process took longer than before.

The rush of the battle had put Dante into a sort of tunnel vision; he was oblivious to anything but his opponent, even his own demonic nature bursting at the seams and unable to find more purchase than express itself in his eyes, his teeth and his hands. His guns flashed red with power as the shots rang with demonic potency.

Suddenly the demon jumped back and with a rasp howl reared his head back. Dante twitched, knowing all too well what it was going to do.

“Not this time,” he muttered angrily.

He closed the distance between them rapidly, his determined gaze locked on his target and his momentum carried him across the floor as he thrust the sword ahead. The blade went clean through where the clavicle would be with a squishy sound and a loud crack of snapping bone and ligament. The force knocked the demon backwards and it slid right off the blade before tumbling backwards with a loud scream. It landed on its back and flailed around. Its limbs pinned awkwardly under its weight, it flailed momentarily with loud hisses, sickle-claws on its feet slicing at the air with no gain.

Dante wasted no time and rushed to his incapacitated opponent, drawing his guns. He caught the demon as it almost righted itself with a kick to the chest, pinning down as he carefully avoided its feet. The long, bony appendages flailed helplessly, one pinned under the weight of the creature, pressed down by Dante’s foot and the other bent the wrong way and unable to reach him. Grinning broadly, Dante planted his guns at the creature’s head, their surface crackling angrily with suppressed power that was coiled like a spring in him.

“Get used to the view, it’s what’s waiting for you when I find you for real,” he grunted.

Tess had been busy thinning out the corrupted people with precision and flame but felt compelled to look over at Dante when she sensed something rising, like a coiled snake coming up from its den, a power straining at the seams to burst. She saw the flare of red and heard rapid gunfine and in a brief lull of combat she saw Dante filling the monster’s head with bullets carrying demonic power faster than it could ever hope to regenerate. She gulped as Dante _laughed_ while the shots went on and on with deafening roars that covered the crack and split of bone and the tearing of flesh. When the last of the excess power drained from his shots, Dante pulled his leg back and drove a mighty kick to the disfigured, bloody head. The hit ripped it clean off the body, snapping any shreds of bone or flesh it might’ve clung to. It slammed into a wall, smashing like a rotten egg and splattering blood and demonic matter in a disgusting smear. The body tensed and squirmed in nervous death throes before relaxing gradually and Dante twirled his guns with a satisfied smirk.

Tess returned to the task at hand, clearing out the remaining wretches who seemed to renew their attack with added vigor. She used masses of fire to drive them back but to her dismay more seemed to pour in from the dark corridors around them. Dante dodged under one of the madmen leaping for him like an animal. He nonchalantly allowed himself to slide along the dusty floor on his knees, shooting demons as he passed – he even bent backwards to slide right between the legs of a particularly tall demon, firing two bullets right at its head as it bent down to stare. Dante jumped to his feet and drew his sword, swinging it in a wide arc that resulted in a demon parting ways with its head in a spray of blood.

Tess kicked a wretch’s knee out from under it and blasted it in the face with a bolt of fire, sending it tumbling. She rolled her eyes at Dante.

“You showboat…” she muttered.  

Dante heard her but just grinned, taking a moment to appreciate her mowing down these pathetic demons with fire and occasionally, judicious application of her knife, which she wielded to devastating effect. It wasn’t hard to tell that the girl was venting some serious rage here and he could hardly fault her for it. He worked his way towards her, dodging around clumsy attacks from the corrupted creatures and cutting them down with gusto. Once in a while one of the creatures would turn out to be wielding rusty knives or broken pipes and other miscellany items as crude weapons.

Dante had little to fear from them but as one passed by the tip of his nose as he dodged, he felt, to his alarm, the crackle and hiss of demonic power surging through them. Nothing to sniff at, certainly, so he redoubled his efforts.

By the time he finally got to Tess, most Madmen were down, but there were still enough to surround them.

“You good?” he ventured, impaling a demon on his sword and kicking it off violently.

The demon tumbled backwards and straight into another, giving Dante the chance to take them both down with a heavy overhead swing. He watched her cause an eruption underfoot of another corrupt creature, knocking it upwards and then another from above, bouncing the hapless wretch on the floor so hard that the floorboards gave way with a loud whine and snap of wood. The smoldering creature flailed and writhed as another stepped over it.

“I’m fine,” she snapped back.

He suspected she might be enjoying this fight, a little. And yet, Dante sensed she was tense, maybe even nervous. They dispatched most of the wretches with ease between them until a particularly large one proved a little more stubborn. At one point or another it had been human, but whatever corruption it had fallen under had warped it into something approaching the truly monstrous. Its proportions had changed so erratically that although it easily towered over them, one leg was bloated and stiff and the arms seemed to have outgrown their own skin and flesh, bone spurs bursting through ripped skin. Its maw was so wide that its grotesque tongue lolled out of its mouth, dripping with saliva.

“Ooh, don’t wanna let that one too close, Twig,” Dante muttered. “Let’s cut ‘im down to size first!”

He stepped into the thing’s sight and easily ducked under its clumsy swing, flicking his sword. He knocked its arm away, the bone spurs clattering on his sword with a few sparks, and then swung at its legs. The powerful blow cut deep, bringing the thing to ground where Tess took over and treated it to her nastiest display yet. All Dante saw before the flare was a mere flicker of fire and then it was almost as if a canon had fired off in the demon’s face. The wretch was knocked clean off its feet by the almost white-hot fire igniting around it. It grew brighter, erupting upon its upper body and Dante squinted against the glare. He did see flesh and bone burning into brittle, crumbly bits. The limp body toppled over and the shrunken, blackened skull disintegrated on impact with the ground.

The intensity of the heat was such that Dante felt it where he was standing after he’d backed away. He let a low whistle, impressed; he’d been standing well back and even so he felt some of his hair singe lightly. Tess grunted lowly and snuffed out the fire before anything else could ignite, leaving behind a large scorch mark and the heady smell of smoldering wood and plaster. Then she proceeded to bend over and brace her hands on her knees, panting a bit. Dante put his sword away and went over to her. She looked tired.

“Hey, y’alright?” he ventured, reaching out to pat her back.

She stood straight before he could and he thought she might’ve… flinched a little?

“Yeah, I’m ok. Just winded,” she said, avoiding his gaze momentarily, the looked at him. “Heck, I needed this fight,” she confessed.

He smirked, enjoying the sight of that brief savage glint in her eyes. He absently thought that it suited her. “Feels good to vent, eh?” he said and held his fist out to her for some pounds.

She bumped her fist to his with a small smile but then blinked at his hand, then looked up at him and frowned. “Damn, you sure as hell aren’t holding back.”

Dante cocked his head, staring at his hand. They were starting to shrink again but his nails and fingers had swollen to rather vicious claws again and he suspected his eyes might’ve flooded with red.

“Heh, just got a bit excited, is all,” he said and shrugged.

But he knew he was lying and by the look on her face, so did Tess. The truth was that his whole being was alive to the powers threading through the air around them. He took to it like a duck takes to water, breathing it in and knowing that it was natural to him. Of course he’d respond.

Tess seemed a little more dubious. “We should get moving,” she said. “We kicked a hornet’s nest here.”

Dante shrugged. Sure, he felt a small twinge of guilt for unsettling her but this was his nature. “Yeah and we haven’t found the big fish yet.”

They stepped over the piled bodies still lying around, starting to decompose rapidly and fled down the hallway, clambering over debris and upturned medical equipment and furniture. The building grew silent again, with only distant, vague noises calling out to them. They came to a T-junction and hesitated. Dante could feel a tug in a particular direction but he glanced at Tess and found her hesitating and biting her lips. She looked around slowly with an odd kind of familiarity in her eyes.

“I think… I’ve seen this corridor before,” she said. “Yes, I remember it from my nightmares.”

He glanced down the path she looked towards and scowled. He knew instinctively that was the way they had to follow; the presence of demons curled and pooled in it, calling him over.

“C’mon, then,” he said.

The corridor was narrow and the only light came from a pair of fluorescent fixtures that flickered gently, _tink, tink, tink_. Dust and grime covered the broken tiles of the floor and rust runs coruscated down from piping along the walls. The only windows were small, oppressive little apertures high up near the ceiling, boarded over and barred with rusted iron, the glass opaque with filth.

They passed a few rooms, meant for medical examinations rather than cells, filled with piles of decaying equipment. Ahead of them, an object caught in a thin slice of light caught their eye; a warped wheelchair lying on its side in a crack of light escaping from a door just barely ajar. A trail of what turned out to be dried blood lead from the door into the corridor.

Dante huffed. “It’s like a low-budget horror film in here,” he muttered.

Tess just rubbed her arms and for a moment he thought she was cold. She stared at the door nervously. Her gaze travelled from the pool of blood to the door and she cocked her head to the side, almost as though she heard something.

“Twig? What’s up?” he said quietly.

“Listen,” she said suddenly and reluctantly touched the door, then leapt back as though she touched bare wire.

Dante heard it and his hear stood on end; a ghostly groan from the other side.

 _“You…you’re here…”_ something sighed. It sounded almost human – or at least, like it had been human. Once. _“It’s… in here… with me… It’s waiting down… down… down… below…”_

“What is that?” Dante blurted.

Tess shivered. “I… I don’t know. It might… be a ghost. But what if it’s become affected by this place?” she muttered.

“Dunno, Twig, can you do anything about it?” he asked.

She frowned. “I know how to banish some ghosts but I’m not sure. I mean, it _could_ very well be trying to help us.”

The unseen voice continued to drift through the door, beckoning. _“Through here… it’s here…it’s here…”_

“Way I see it, we got two choices. Either it’s our demon trying to fuck with us, in which case we’re looking for him anyway, or like you said, just a spook,” Dante said. “What’s to hesitate?” Then he smirked a bit. “Unless you’re scared, Twig.”

She growled at him. “Oh my shit, you want me to say it.”

He grinned. “More than you know.”

She glared at him momentarily from under her eyebrows. “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts,” she said flatly and Dante hooted quietly in satisfaction.

She swatted at him. “Forget that, come on.”

She hesitated at the awaiting door and tried to push it open, just to find it jam against the floor with a reverberant squeal of metal and she winced.

“Well come on, help me out,” she growled at him, pressing her shoulder against it.

Dante snorted and joined her at the effort, pressing his shoulder against the door too and bracing. “Ever the Twig…” he sighed.

“Shut up.”


	18. The Menagerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where a particularly unsettling opponent blocks the way.

The heavy door turned out to be warped, catching the floor with the scrape and squeal of tortured metal so intense, Dante’s teeth hurt. The sharp noise seemed to have silenced the ghostly voice as they tried to make their way in. Even with his strength, it took them some doing to push it open enough to be able to slip through. When the opening was enough, Dante took the lead with a gun drawn, just in case of an ambush. He carefully maneuvered himself through, taking care not to get stuck and caught unawares. Just as he made it through, something whizzed by his ear with a soft squelch and he instinctively ducked out of the way, only able to catch sight of some sort of _squiggly_ appendage swinging back after its unsuccessful attempt at swatting him.

He nearly stepped on Tess’ toes as he backed up.

“What in blue hell--?” he blurted in surprise.

Tess peeked out from behind him. “What _is_ that!?”   

They found themselves in a large room lined with grimy old cabinets, cupboards and medical equipment. A filthy and messy desk and an examination bed were upturned under some smashed shelves on the other side. Most of the floor had collapsed under the weight of the owner of that black tentacle that had almost hit Dante in the face. It squirmed and bulged and rippled like a bloated tick, hybrid of animal and plant, rising out of the hole as if sprouting straight out of it. Countless squirming tentacles curled and uncurled, coiling, twisting and turning, all of them with small, writhing mouths on the ends with rows upon rows of teeth in neat little circles. They made small squelching noises, dripping a viscous, cloudy slime.

Nestled in the middle of the writing mass was a bulb-like, fleshy structure with a surface like pockmarked, pustule-ridden and rotted flesh – and it smelled like it, too. Fleshy and glossy black leaves or petals surrounded the quivering mass, each with its own little red and toothed mouth that opened and closed hypnotically, like it was breathing. The tentacles often moved protectively over the squirming bulb. Some were fixated by the presence of a lone, surviving light fixture on the wall, attracted by its light but repelled by its intense heat.

The two teenagers heard a horrible slurping and squishy noise; their gaze followed some stubbier, thicker tentacles stretching from the fat trunk like roots. They were curled – planted rather, in the remains of what looked like the half-eaten, lower torso and legs of a human. From the gurgling and soft cracks it sounded like the ‘roots’ were _eating_ it noisily.

The sound of the scraping door must have drawn its attention as some tentacles had inched over to explore but it seemed largely unaware of them.

“Eugh!” Tess grunted quietly. “Is that a demon!?”

“Well it sure ain’t the Easter bunny,” Dante said with a wry smile.

“Look,” Tess said, tugging his sleeve and pointing at a strange luminescence off to the side of the corpse.

Dante squinted at it, trying to focus on a shape when the disembodied voice from earlier started again. _“Too late… was too late… it’s waiting… down… down… below…”_

“Fuck, it’s his ghost…” Tess muttered. “What’s he mean ‘too late’, though…?”

“Forget that, I get a feelin’ this thing’s guarding the way down,” Dante said, narrowing his eyes.

He could _just_ about see the remains of some stairs in the hole the thing was growing out of.

“So we have to take it out,” Tess groaned. “Great, it’s so gross—huh?”

They both stared at the luminescence that seemed to pulse. Dante blinked as he finally seemed to discern a human arm form vaguely and point at the corpse under the demon’s ‘roots’.

“Huh… guess he wants us to get that slimy thing off him,” Dante quipped.

“I don’t blame him,” Tess said, cringing. “Maybe he _is_ trying to help us…”

“This fucking demon must be either too chicken to leave this wriggling demon turd to stall or… or I guess it’s trying to tire us out. With a tentacle monster.”

Tess made a disgusted little noise that brought a smirk to his face. “Ew! You just _had_ to! I didn’t need that mental image right now.”

Dante grinned shamelessly. “I’m surprised _that_ went through your mind, Twig!” he protested. “Maybe you should stay back or it might decide to _play_ with you—“

“Or maybe it’ll do me a favor and fancy _you_ instead,” she said hotly. “Ugh, let’s just kill it before I need brain bleach.”

Dante laughed at her smugly and drew Rebellion, confident it would make an adequate weed whacker for this thing.

“Aw don’t fret, Twig, we’ll get to the _root_ of the problem,” he said and she growled. “It’ll _leaf_ us alone in no time!”

He grinned at her indignant, exasperated noise and ducked under dancing tentacles and sliced them apart, aiming right for the squirming bulb in the middle. Bits of slimy tentacle went flying on the ground with ugly splats and for good measure he drew Ebony to fire a couple of rounds at it.

Just as the first tentacles were severed, however, the thing screamed lowly and the rest of the tentacles hurriedly curled around the bulb, swelling up suddenly and hardening so that the bullets pinged off them harmlessly with dry cracks. The severed tentacles dripped a foul black slime and regenerated immediately into two thick tentacles each that whipped around at Dante, catching him on the chest and essentially punching him away.

Tess cringed as Dante yelped and flew back some five feet, slamming back-first into the wall next to the door. He hit with a sharp thud and slid to the ground in a heap, dazed. However, irrational ire blew through the haze of his stun and he jumped back up, irritated that he’d underestimated this ugly bundle of tentacles.

“Dante wait--!” Tess tried to say to slow him down but he wouldn’t listen.

He charged back towards the ugly thing, brandishing his sword and rapidly swinging it in an attempt to cut down as many tentacles as he could on his way to the core, still sheltered under the layers of hardened tentacles. He got close enough to thrust Rebellion into the ‘trunk’ of the beast with fury. Again the tentacles protectively wrapped around the bulb and the severed ones grew double the number of tentacles rapidly. They swarmed the teenager as the thing let a high-pitched cry and seized him by the leg. Dante found himself pulled clean off the ground, his arms dangling helplessly over his head as he furiously shot at the demon with one hand, but found that his bullets did very little damage to the fleshier bits of the monster.

Tess attempted to free him with lashes of fire but the beast proved too tough even for her flame as the burned tentacles just regenerated quickly and she was unable to prevent it from angrily slamming Dante against the floor with an earth-shaking thump, buckling it under him violently. She did manage to sever the tentacles holding his leg before they could pry him off the ground and repeat the vicious maneuver again.

“Dante!” she squeaked, ducking under some enterprising tentacles that finally took notice of her.

She noticed that the slurping noise of the ‘roots’ had intensified as if the creature sought nourishment to replenish itself from its exertions and she _heard_ the corpse shriveling softly. It seemed more interested in feeding than fighting and the lithe tentacles were starting to track her and the protective embrace around the bulb loosened. The fleshy leaves rippled and there was a curious keening from the plant and she worried that it was now tracking her scent.

Dante snarled angrily and pushed himself up from his personalized dent in the floor, wiping some blood from his burst nose and lip. “I’m getting my ass kicked by a fucking dirty cartoon reject,” he growled and he felt his teeth growing sharp again.

Tess noticed with concern that Dante’s aura was swelling and billowing around him in a distinctly furious manner, like an angry tiger pacing around its cage. She gulped. She suspected that the asylum’s atmosphere, thick with demonic presence, was starting to get to his head a little and being this humiliated by the demon was pushing him over the edge. He growled like an animal and cut apart some tentacles that shot his way, one of them dipping to the floor to lap up the errant drops of blood from Dante’s nose.

She flicked her gaze back to the plant thing and then ducked under some tentacles that were now rather determinedly coming her way. The creature was now fully aware of her presence and seemed increasingly attracted to her. She saw the mouths of the tentacles pulse and drool more of that slimy substance and winced, finding herself suddenly herded towards a corner. She tried once more to burn away the tentacles but to her dismay, she just found them multiplying. They were both getting hemmed in with the multiplying tentacles almost filling the room.

Dante again tried to assault the mass but no matter how fast he cut the tentacles back, more grew to crowd him.

“No, stop! We’re going to get overwhelmed!!” she screamed at him.

He wasn’t listening and she cast around for some way out of this predicament. Dodging more pursuing tentacles she suddenly had a wild idea, watching the thing reach eagerly for spatters of blood on the ground. If it was so desperate for nourishment…

She reached behind her and whipped out the knife, burning back tentacles trying to crowd her. With a decisive move she dragged the blade over her palm and squeezed her fist, causing blood to dribble between her fingers and flicked her hand to spray some blood on the floor.

“Come on, you stupid thing, snack-time!” she barked.

The response was an immediate feeding frenzy. The tentacles writhed and the whole thing suddenly seemed to _shudder_ with pleasure. Its mass quivered like rotten pudding and tentacles began to unfurl from around the core, turning towards her, mouths puckering and making obscene sucking noises of eager feeding.

“Dante--!” she screamed, burning back those coming too close to her.

Dante was reeling from another unsuccessful assault on the fleshy monstrosity and was breathing hard when he smelled it. It was… the smell of pennies and yet sweet and tart all at once and something roiled deep in him. Something that made him blink and made his tongue run over his sharpened teeth. He heard her scream but his mind was lost in a peculiar train of thought.

 _Have you ever wondered what witch blood tastes like?_ said a small voice in the back of his head. _It’s sweet and full of power. Why don’t you try it, see what demons make such a big deal out of?_

He suddenly shook his head to clear his mind. _“What the hell am I thinking!?”_ he growled silently.

He rushed at the plant monster, watching try to get to the witch. Tentacles made it to the drops spattered on the ground, greedily lapping them up with slimy sucking noises. The creature was so eager to get nearer that it craned perilously towards her, crunching the floor it pressed against, widening the hole. Tess hurriedly ripped a strip from the edge of her inner shirt and hurriedly wrapped it around her palm, trying to stem the blood but more spattered on the ground and it just stoked the thing’s feeding frenzy further. It was now keening and trying to move towards her. The tentacles around the center bulb shifted and the leaves unfurled. It was pulsing harder by now and lay exposed.

 _“Dante!!”_ she screamed.

Dante shook off the last dregs of his distraction, even as the strangely sweet scent tugged at him, and lunged towards the exposed heart of the monster just as it tried to shift itself more so it could reach the far corner she’d retreated to. His aura had swelled like well-stoked flame and his eyes gleamed red. His hands were tight around the hilt of the sword, knuckles white. He cut a path through the writhing tentacles and arrived at the core drawing his sword arm back and then pistoning it forward. It ran through the core with a loud crunch and the horrified screech from the demon, its entire body shuddering helplessly. The hit was so hard the whole monster lurched sideways, crashing into the crumbling edge of the hole it’d opened in the floor.

The mighty blow was not enough for the half-demon, who snarled in fury and kept jabbing, hacking and slashing at the core furiously. His arm moved like a blur and the blade acquired a red gleam to it, crackling angrily with power. The creature squealed helplessly, high pitched keening causing Tess to yelp and cover her ears as its core was destroyed from the multitude of blows. Tentacles flailed and tried to assault the furious hunter, grabbing and striking but every single one was cut to pieces in a flurry of counter-attacks, the blade flashing through the air with such speed it was nearly invisible. Fountains of thick, gooey black ichor sprayed and splattered about from every blow, staining the ground, the ceiling, the walls and even Dante who ignored it all.

Tess shrank into her corner, covering her face from flying chunks of demon and watched in horror as Dante was seemingly lost in a berserk state. The pressure from his power straining at the leash hit her in the chest like a blow and she yelped. The creature kept screeching and quivering impotently as its trunk started to shrink and shrivel, the leaves around the squelched bulb withering with squishy burps and gurgles. It slowly ceased to move and slumped at the edge of the hole, starting to slide downwards as the tentacles fell limp one by one and it resembled a dried up pile of tubing.

And yet, Dante wasn’t stopping.

He breathed hard, his skin was sparking with errant power and he kept hacking and slashing with a fixated, angry grin on his face.

“Dante!!” she screamed, eyes wide. “Dante, stop! That’s enough! It’s dead! _Stop_!!”

Fighting her fear she ran towards him but was afraid to touch him. He whipped around suddenly; breathing so hard his shoulders heaved and stared at her. He blinked and his eyes were a brilliant, hard red. Strings of thick, syrupy ichor clung to his sword and oozed down his coat and pants, pooling around his shoes.

Dante breathed deeply. The smell of sweet blood set his senses alight, he could almost taste it on his lips and he had the absurd urge to grab her hand and lap up the precious liquid. After all, she’d offered it to the demon freely and he had killed the ugly thing, which meant he had every right to claim it—

He blinked. Something in him screamed, abruptly silencing those dark thoughts. He focused at last and saw Tess looking ready to slap him. He had been seeing red the entire time and now the fog from his mind was clearing gradually and he realized he was _scaring_ her. He swallowed hard to banish the enticing scent and looked down at himself, beating and wiping dollops of the demon’s foul ichor off him and shaking more off his sword.

“Cool it, Twig, I’m fine,” he lied. “Just got cheesed off with the damn thing.”

Tess just stared at him reluctantly and he saw her shoulders take a long time to relax and her hands were clenched nervously.

“Fine?” she muttered. “You nearly lost it.”

“I said, I’m okay. Just got mad,” he insisted.

“I’d hate to see you with a screw loose, then,” she angrily challenged and Dante was taken aback.

“Twig…” he said and secured his sword to his back. “Look, I mean it. I’m fine. Just on edge.”

He held his hands out at her and surely enough, the claws that had swelled at the tips of his fingers were shrinking back to normal and he felt his heart-rate slowing again, just a bit.

She looked at him dubiously, almost accusingly and then looked away. “Fine. Help me here.”

She approached the mangled body of the demon’s last victim and grabbed one of the legs, dry-heaving at its condition, shriveled and dry like a leathery mummy by now. Dante grabbed the other leg and both of them tugged hard, pulling it away from the pathetic remains of the demon, streaking the floor with leaking, stinking decomposing fluids. The top half of the body had been mostly crushed and mangled but they were able to roughly tell it had been a man. The head had been _chewed_ off and the arms sprawled over its head. The flesh had been mostly stripped from the bones but Tess pointed out that his hand was still clenched around something.

Dante bent down and pried a large skeleton key from the man’s clenched fist. The key was large, relatively plain-looking and covered in sticky dry blood and demon ooze and he shook most of it off before handing it off to her. There was a strange symbol made of steel attached to the key with a thin chain and Tess seemed reluctant to touch it.

“Do you… feel anything holding the key?” she asked suddenly.

Dante cocked his head. “No, why?

Tess frowned. “That symbol looks like a coven seal, but I don’t… I don’t recognize it. The city hasn’t had a coven in years. But this guy looks fresh…”

“What, he was a witch?” Dante ventured.

“He may have been,” Tess said reluctantly and reached out to pick up the key. She breathed out when she closed her hand around it. “Uh… I expected to have visions from it.”

“Guess we look for the door it fits?” Dante asked.

Tess weighed the key in her hand uncertainly. “Yeah… it feels odd in my hand, to be honest. It looks older than the asylum, though.”

“It’s probably just the place getting to you,” Dante said impatiently. “You said it’s been screwing with your head since we got here.”

Tess bit her lip. “Maybe. I remember from my nightmares a door… I can’t remember where it was but it was… underground, I think.”

“Could be where _he_ was headed,” Dante said, nodding to the dead boy. “Maybe a cellar.”

He huffed. He didn’t like this complicated bullshit. He’d never really dealt with demons that would put him through so many hoops. Usually they just came straight out to kill him. Being played around like this was making him increasingly angrier. He stared at the hole the demon had grown out of, now free of obstructions with its body withering away.

“And I bet we’re gonna find it down there,” he chuckled. “Secret doors, keys guarded by bloodsuckin’ tentacle monsters… this is getting ridiculous.”

She scoffed mirthlessly. “Right?” she sulked. “It’s playing with us. Ugh, we have to go down there…” She pocketed the key. “I wonder if it’s really a cellar. It might be some structure older than the asylum. Maybe… a morgue? Or some catacomb that predates the hospital? Who knows. We’re being strung along, but how much choice do we have?”

Dante shrugged and they approached the edge of the hole, careful to avoid crumbling parts, and peered down. Tess illuminated it as best she could with a bit of flame that hovered in the air and took her effort to sustain without fuel. They beheld a ruined corridor and a staircase in the distance. It was quiet but they could hear maddened howls and hysterical cackles far off. They heralded the presence of more wretched mad demons. Dante took the plunge and jumped down first, giving rise to a cloud of dust when he landed.

He waited for a moment to see if any attacks were incoming and when nothing happened, he grinned cheekily and held his arms out.

“Come on, Twig, I’ll catch ya,” he said.

She scowled down at him but all the same she crouched, braced against the edge of the hole and vaulted down, landing neatly in his expectant arms. He fought the urge to make a corny joke and ultimately lost.

“See? Ya do love me, Twig, you jump right into my arms,” he said cheekily.

“Your jokes are gonna kill me before the demons do,” she scoffed and got out of his hold.

There was little to no light down there and now windows – only a faint glow flickered at the depths of the stairway and Tess was forced to maintain the unbound flame to provide them with some light. When they moved again she stuck to him closer than before. The noises of maddened former humans lurked in the air.

“I still can’t swallow that so many people have succumbed to this… how has no one noticed?” she muttered.

“Sometimes people _don’t want_ to notice,” Dante answered in the same quiet tone. “And some people are just itching for an excuse to give in.”

“Right…”

Dante had his own concerns; he was starting to really feel the tug of demonic power, drawn closer to it like a moth to flame. He started to wonder whether these nightmares she’d suffered and took as guidance were in fact an elaborate trap. He wondered whether it was possible to _manipulate_ her power. He didn’t want to scare her into a panic, so he didn’t bring it up.

They hesitated at the top of the stairwell to ensure that it was safe before heading down it. They passed flickering, weak lights and encountered several crazed demons – still bearing enough human traits to be truly alarming. They were easily dispatched and in those confined spaces Tess was a natural at utilizing space to her advantage, her power over fire giving them little room for escape and just further herding them to the end of Dante’s sword. They found no way out at the first landing, the door having been bricked up long ago and came to the end at the next turn at the bottom.

Tess was breathing heavier now and she confessed to feeling tired, having to maintain a flame for light with no fuel. Dante scowled. “It’s really trying to wear us down before we get to it,” he grumbled. “I know you can’t see too well in the dark Twig, you don’t need to keep the light going forever.”

“I’m fine, I just needed a minute,” she said and stood straight again.

They ventured into the door at the bottom of the stairs, into what looked like a utility and storage area. They had to step over an old corpse wearing what looked like exploration gear – there was a dead head-mounted flashlight lying near where its skull might’ve been and a camera with a cord that had lain around its neck once. The skull was in pieces. Tess glanced back at it nervously.

“How long has this even been going on?” she wondered. “If this… thing has been trying to set itself free all this time...”

“Now’s not the time to worry about that, Twig,” Dante told her. “It’s happened and there’s nothing to be gained wondering why or how or when. Just focus on the fact we’re gonna stop it.”

She sighed. “Still… have you noticed something odd? We’ve been here for a while and yet the building… didn’t look that big from the outside. I feel like we’re mice to this thing and it’s just amusing itself.”

Dante scoffed. “Well, it’s about to find out that these mice are gonna bust its ass,” he muttered.

The halls they were exploring were damn, dirty and very dark, requiring Tess to maintain a bigger flame for light. They looked around in the dank space and behind a series of shelves loaded with rotting filing boxes, they discovered a door that was vastly different than the doors they’d encountered so far. It was large, with a heavy, wooden construction enforced with old steel.

“I think this is it,” Tess said. “I think the lock looks like it matches the key.”

“Try it then,” Dante said, feeling like this was maybe too easy.

After some hesitation, Tess fit the key into the lock. It fit snugly and she tried to turn it. It took some effort and she had to grip the key with both hands. The key ground harshly in the lock but finally turned with a loud _thunk_. She turned it once more, completely unlocking the door with a second clatter. She turned the handle, put her shoulder against it and pushed it open.

The door opened into a plain room with a couple of standing shelves on both sides. It was rather cluttered with old beds, crates, mold-eaten cardboard boxes and lots of dust and cobwebs. They blinked at the underwhelming sight and Tess crossed the room towards another door across it before Dante could stop her. It was fairly modern looking, like the ones that they’d seen so far in the asylum earlier. She turned the rusty knob but it wouldn't open. She rattled the door helplessly for a few moments and just when it seemed hopeless, it suddenly swung open with a loud bang, as though whatever was blocking it was gone.

Tess yelped and stumbled forward into the doorway before Dante could catch her. He blinked as light came through from the door, like from electrical lights. He stepped into the room, stopping abruptly only to feel the sudden embrace of demonic powers surging around him. This was no ambient presence; this was _everywhere,_ coming through the walls, almost _._ Concerned how it might affect Tess, he strode through the second door after her just for her to back-step into him, staring ahead of her.

“W-what?! N-no, this is impossible!” she stuttered. “We can’t be _this_ high up!”

Dante narrowed his eyes at the sight and clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Beyond the opened door stretched a cellblock lined around a large rectangular hole in the middle that allowed view to lower floors. However, Dante could see a very obvious sun window above them that shouldn’t be there, considering they were _supposed_ to be underground. Then there were several floors of identical cellblocks _below_ them even though they should only have descended one or at most two basement floors. And given that Dante could see windows in the cells facing the outside, even in the dark, he knew these weren’t underground.

The entire structure was dimly lit by electrical lights on the ceilings, most of them cracked and failing and what they could see of the space did not inspire confidence in either of them. The walls were dirty, blotted with rust and moisture runs and other unsavory stains. Most of the cell doors were hanging open, some warped, dented or even broken, filthy with rust and grime. Beds and other cell amenities were strewn all over, some even hanging off the railing around the ward, others lying around broken and useless. A few gurneys lay piled in a corner in disuse. The whole place reeked of deterioration and abandonment.

They could hear more inhuman laughter, growls and babbled gibberish echo from the vast area below, taunting them.

“This… this isn’t right…” Tess quavered. “This isn’t how…”

“We’re not in Kansas anymore, Twig,” Dante said grimly.

As if to punctuate his statement, the door they’d just walked through slammed shut with a thud right behind them and when they both whipped around to look… it was simply not there. The wall appeared demure and equally filthy as the rest of them, and very decidedly bare. They stared in bewilderment at the wall, mute. Dante put out a hand and gingerly pushed against the wall and tapped it with his knuckles. It sounded solid, like the door had never even been there to begin with.

Dante snorted mirthlessly. “I’ve only seen something like this once or twice before but I’d say we’re getting a bit too close to the Underworld for the human world to handle.”

Tess shook her head in disbelief, staring dumbly at the wall. “But… but we’re still in the human world. I don’t think I’d be standing if we’d somehow been led into the Underworld itself – I don’t think I’d even be alive.”

“Yup,” Dante huffed. “It’s like one side’s leaking into the other. I mean, this part doesn’t even look like part of the asylum anymore.”

“It… could’ve been in the past, I think it was heavily modified over the years,” Tess said thoughtfully. “I don’t like this.”

He examined the space over the metal railing; the hole went down into the dark and he didn’t think he could see a bottom. The other levels seemed to be in about the same state as the one they were standing on.

“Guess we’re going down,” he mused.

“Don’t even _joke_ about jumping,” Tess warned him. “I’d rather have to fight my way through another mess of demons.”

He cracked a smile. “Relax Twig, even I won’t jump down holes if I can’t see the bottom. Better get ready then, looks like it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

They found the stairs, steep and claustrophobic and got started. They were narrow and positioned in such a way that they felt they could actually run through this chaotic mess without fighting everything. Dante was absently mulling over the surges of demonic power he felt tickling the back of his neck all the time, trying to coax thoughts and reactions out of him. He felt her hand look for his a few times during the descent when it seemed they were about to get into a fight and he took a moment to give her hand an encouraging squeeze.

The floors they passed by seemed more or less identical to each other, equally filthy, dark and populated with more unfortunate wretches in various stages of demonic deterioration and madness. Surprisingly enough, they avoided many fights because of the state of these creatures. Some were too absorbed in bizarre actions to notice, like one they passed right next to, continually bashing its head into a wall stained with an ugly red smear. Others would actually chase them down for a few feet and had to be cut down if they got too close, but most of them lost interest once they lost sight of them. Some were even busy turning on each other in loud, messy fights, and ignored them entirely.

They lost count of how many floors they passed when the stairs came to an abrupt end at a floor rather darker than the ones they’d passed – most lights were out. The chasm the block was suspended over, however, kept going to a seemingly endless depth. Dante and Tess stared it uncertainly for a moment.

“So here we are,” Dante muttered. “Now what?”

“I…I don’t know. I guess we search the floor?” she said helplessly. “It feels like a trap.”

They heard a squishy noise and finally noticed several of the corrupt former humans crouching over something – a body, it looked like another one of them. They squatted in a circle around it and roughly tore pieces of it and gnawed on them noisily. Tess was unable to hold back a yelp and the creatures all suddenly looked up at them, as if bewildered for a moment. The yellow, gleaming eyeballs on their chests spun suddenly towards them and the horde leaped up to rush them loudly.

Dante cut down the first one with a hard swing of Rebellion, sending it over the edge of the railing, screaming. Tess set the rest on fire, scattering them in a screaming rabble either trying to put the flames out or trying to blindly attack in retaliation. The cracks from Dante’s gunshots rattled around the space, giving rise to a horrible din, mixed with the screams and snarls of other wretches from above them, becoming aware of the battle below. The abyss was something of a blessing in disguise as it proved easy to knock many of the wretches over the edge rather than waste precious time fighting all of them and Tess exploited the fact with vigor, pushing them back with fire and knocking them over the side with calculated blasts.

They got rid of the immediate threat fairly easily but the noise didn’t die down and they backed up against each other to await a second wave that was almost certainly headed for them. The scream of tortured metal made them both shiver as a loud repeated thudding came from one of the cell doors around them. A scream came from the cell – no, a corridor barred to resemble a cell, and then the mutilated body of one of the corrupt wretches slammed against the metal bars with a revolting _crunch._ A large figure loomed over it briefly before an arm the size of a person smashed the bars outwards, pulverizing the body and sending it all tumbling over the railings.

The pair took a surprised step backwards as the massive thing stepped out of the corridor. It was vaguely humanoid but just as twisted and misshapen as the wretches, the skin mottled gray and bleached under filth and grime. The head was large, angular and many yellow eyes grew over it erratically like tumors and spun around independently, the mouth slack to show large shark teeth. It bore tattered remains of clothing but the body was too deformed for them anyway, bone spurs erupting from the body in bizarre angles and forcing the body to hunch over. The torso was twisted by yet another horror face growing out of it, the mouth gaping in a fixed, twisted grin and the large yellow eye bulging outwards.

The behemoth padded out into the cellblock and seemed to blink against the brighter light, followed by another one of its kind, to the teenagers’ dismay. Their legs were like tree trunks, causing gentle tremors on the floor as they walked and suddenly Dante and Tess shared an unspoken thought: Could the floor take these things without breaking?

The creatures caught sight of the pair and, grunting like bears, lurched right at them in a frenzy, one of them even yielding a large, rusty hatchet that it swung overhead. Dante growled and swung Rebellion up, catching the hatched as it came down and deflecting it with a loud crack of metal.

“Better back off, Twig, don’t wanna be in the way of this bulldozer!” he muttered.

Tess was all too happy to back away from the fray, aware this was too big a challenge for her. She backed away and saw with dismay that the second giant wretch was coming right for her. Dante grunted helplessly as he ducked to avoid another swing from the massive demon trying to corner him towards the back walls.

As the demon lunged him again, Dante actually backed to the wall, luring the demon towards it and just before impact, he planted a foot against it and pushed off, back-flipping through the air full of grace. He drew his guns as he soared over the demon and unloaded round after round into its cranium from above as it lurched ahead mindlessly. It’s multitude of eyes exploded like squished grapes and it collided with the wall in a messy heap that shook the entire cell block. Dante heard the grinding of stone and concrete and cursed as he landed, turning to face the behemoth and drawing his sword.

The demon howled in pain, extricating itself from the dented wall in the wake of precipitating debris and dust and rushed at him half-blind like a battering ram, swinging the hatched wildly.

The behemoth going after Tess was almost as large as the first one, but looked scruffier somehow, with more bone spurs and carried no hatchet. The tattered remains of its clothes were caked in grime that Tess didn’t care to analyze and its long dark tongue, almost like a tentacle, lolled out of its slack-jawed maw. It actually seemed to hesitate for a moment, its many eyes trying to focus on one target. It seemed briefly distracted by Dante’s showdown with its brethren but then it made a weird noise and barreled straight for Tess with a demented parody of a grin on its misshapen face.

“Oh, no, no, no…” Tess blurted, backing away in a hurry.

It raised its huge, gnarly hands to grab her and she panicked. If it caught her, it would surely snap her back without even trying. She let a small scream and fled from it, swinging her arm and sending a lash of fire at it. It burned into the demon’s face with an angry sizzling sound of scorched flesh. The demon howled in pain, its hands reaching to its face as it flailed in agony. It thrashed about and, pulling its hands away at last, looked down at her and roared at her and lunged at her again in blind fury.

The girl panicked and knowing perfectly well that she could not easily stop that rampage neither with fire, nor with witchcraft, she turned and ran as fast as her legs could carry her, along the side of the cellblock. She leapt over fallen doors, pieces of debris and overturned gurneys, while the demon behind her charged blindly like a bull, swinging its arms and flinging those obstacles aside and into the air like they were made of tissue.

Tess swore colorfully as she discovered that the floor ahead of her had collapsed partly, creating a dangerous gap that was no way within her jumping range. There was only a narrow bundle of rusted piping running alongside a ventilation duct suspended there against the wall. They must once have been covered by the floor and survived thanks to being bolted to the wall. The mass of metal was rusted and looked flimsy, and the only thing between her and the safety of the other side, cut off from the rest of the cell block by a mass of collapsed debris.

She cast a look behind her at the demon getting closer to her and didn't allow herself to think. She stepped onto the old pipes. The moment her full weight was on the ventilation duct, it dented with a loud screech but she did not stop or slow down. As she ran across them, the pipes’ supports began failing with metallic snaps. The demon swiped at her, its arm passing inches over her head as it tried to skid to a stop before the chasm. It grunted as the fragile concrete under its feet began to crumble, caving under it. The pipes started to crumble away but she stuck to it even as they collapsed under her. She was forced to flail her arms awkwardly in a desperate attempt to maintain her balance.

Just as Tess threw herself off the falling pipes and onto the concrete of the other edge, the pipes detached completely and fell into the chasm below, breaking into pieces and taking out any bits of floor that hadn’t already crumbled away with them. The floor behind her started to break apart and the behemoth fell straight through, plummeting into the chasm below with an angry, desperate howl.

Tess yelped and fought for purchase, hanging off the edge of the safe concrete island with her waist and legs dangling perilously over the abyss. She clawed at the harsh concrete in front of her, finally managing to secure a hold on the broken railing and a crack on the floor. She heaved and scrambled, finally succeeding to pull herself up. Her heart raced from fear. As soon as she was fully on the solid floor, she crawled away from the edge and looked towards Dante.

He was actually struggling a bit with his opponent, who seemed to have taken impossible amounts of damage and still persisted. The demon was covered in slashes and stabs and Dante shot a few more rounds into its head but it did nothing to stop the demon from leaping at him heavily and nearly catching Dante in a body slam that would’ve certainly saw him squished to the floor.

“Dante!” she shouted.

“This is stupid!! This fatass just won’t roll over!” Dante grunted in response.

He was getting more irritated by the second; this beast hardly posed any particular challenge, it was all slow and lumbering but brute force. But damn was it tough! Dante evaded another swing, leaving it to pound its massive fist onto the floor in vain. He drew Rebellion again and wound the sword back as the demon whirled around, grunting not unlike an angry grizzly. Dante sprang up in a jump, twisting his body to gracefully pass over the lurching beast and brought the blade down on the demon’s head under him. The impact was hard enough to knock the monster forward, with part of its head sliced off neatly. Dante balanced precariously on the creature’s shoulders as it stumbled forward and then went down on its face with a crash.

Standing on its back now, he wound his arm back and planted the blade straight into the back of the creature’s neck, where it hit with a squishy sound and a light crack. Immediately he drew his guns, angry red power crackling viciously along his arms. He planted the muzzles at the base of the neck, where the sword was planted and started to shoot frantically. The shots flashed red, tearing through the hardened flesh with ugly cracks and snaps and with a final, angry snarl, Dante rammed his foot against Rebellion, using it as a leverage to tear the beast’s head off its shoulders with a meaty crunch.

He heard Tess shout something over the din but was so overwhelmed by his anger and sheer desire to obliterate this thing that he didn’t listen. The head fell apart into a lop-sided mass as it slid away from the demon and the entire body seized and flopped in its death throes as Dante grabbed Rebellion and jumped back lest he get hit by one of the bone spurs on the flailing arms. He smirked in satisfaction at the end of his unworthy opponent.

But then the crackle underfoot jolted him out of his satisfaction and he finally understood what Tess had been yelling about: Cracks were darting around him over the aged concrete and he felt the unsettling grind and tremor under his very feet.

“Dante! Get away from there! The whole thing is about to go!!” Tess shrieked from her side of the broken floor.

Dante yanked his sword from the demon’s remains and cursed under his breath, running for his life towards Tess as the floor under him started to buckle and crumble. He heard metal ping and break, groaning under the pressure. He was still some twenty feet from the edge when the floor beneath him started to give away. With the floor already collapsing, there was an impossible jump ahead of him, far greater than he’d ever managed. His heart pounding with fear, Dante _felt_ his demonic powers reach outwards in a panic and something in his brain clicked. He ran faster, pushing off already falling pieces of concrete at increasing speed.

Almost at the edge, he swung his sword ahead, like he was performing one of his devastating stingers and the muscles of his legs did the rest. He reached the edge of the falling floor and went _airborne._ The momentum and the thrust alone carried him all the way across the gap to Tess’ side safely…

…until the very end. He actually fumbled the last foot or so of the leap and tripped over the slightly raised edge of the concrete, landing with a thud, flat on his face and sliding forward. His sword flew from his hand and clattered loudly away. Tess blurted a squeak and flattened herself against the wall to avoid being hit and watched him faceplant. Dante however grunted and pushed himself up off the floor, brushing himself off.

He looked at her with a cheesy smile, even as his heart was still racing. “Not bad, huh?”

Tess blinked at him and then almost shoved him. “You’re so fucking reckless…!” she muttered.

He avoided the swat. “Oh come on, I had to do that! How else—“

“That _was_ pretty cool though,” she added with a chuckle and a sly smile. “But your landing needs work.” 

Dante pretended not to hear the compliment as he picked his sword up but in reality he ate it up and had to fight not to smile smugly, even if he had his back to her.

They studied the collapsed cellblock path, falling further down with the deafening crash of concrete and groaning of twisting metal as it went. About a third of the cell block crumbled away, leaving dangling concrete barely held by the support beams. Between the gap and the blocked off side, they were pretty well isolated.

“Well… now what?” he muttered, looking around them. “Where the hell are we now?”

The feeble light from the glass ceiling all those floors above and the weak electric lights had all but grown insignificant in the gloom. They looked around them, finding only a few empty cells and a corridor to follow.

Tess hesitated a bit. “With the way this place’s physics are fucked up I’m not sure where we _really_ are. But I think—“

She suddenly gasped and uttered a sharp cry of pain. Dante whipped around from studying their path to find her clutching her head with both hands over her ears. Her face was fixed in a grimace of pain, her eyes squeezed shut and her shoulders bunched defensively. She started to hunch over and curl in on herself with pained yelps and whimpers.

“Tess?! What is it?” he blurted, reaching for her.

Tess shook her head, still about to keel over, trembling. “A-ah—oow! What the...? Ow, _ow_! No!! Not—not now!” she groaned and pressed her hands against her ears harder.

Dante suddenly blinked, feeling the air grow heavy and cloying, a creeping shadow reaching out languidly and seemingly tightening its grip around them. The structure around them… keened, quietly. He remembered this sensation, he’d felt it every time he’d met these maddened wretches before they turned, when the gang had attacked them. This time it tried to reach deeper into him and he nearly could hear something like static in the air. He forced the feeling away.

He hesitated and hovered over her, unsure whether he ought to touch her or not. She was clearly having an episode, another attack of her damned second sight and it looked just as painful as it had the last time he’d watched her have one.

“Aaah, it’s not stopping! There’s so much…noise!” she blurted. “They’re not shutting up!”

“Who isn’t shutting up?”

Dante winced. It seemed to be getting worse because she hunched over even more and just whimpered. He wasn’t remotely surprised when she suddenly dropped to her knees and he dove at her as she whimpered in pain, clutching her head and shaking. He wrapped his arms around her protectively, to keep her from falling face-first onto the floor. He tried to keep her calm but this time she wouldn’t respond.

She just kept her hands on her head, her eyes shut and shook her head vigorously, mumbling over and over: “Stop…stop it. I don’t want to hear any more. Leave me alone! No, no, that’s—that’s a _lie_! He’s not like that, no!” she nearly sobbed. “He’s not like them! Shut up, _just shut up_!!”

Dante gnashed his teeth helplessly. Whatever was tormenting her seemed to be trying to sow the seeds of doubt in her about him, he just knew it. His worries that whatever was down here could somehow influence her sight returned. It seemed bent on trying to separate them. At the same time, he was rather touched. She was enduring an excruciating experience and still refused to give in. That devotion shook him up a little.

He put his hands over hers, pulled her against him and softly spoke to her to try and calm her. He was almost childishly wishing he could give her some of his strength, or that his aura might somehow stop whatever was tormenting her.

“Fight it off Tess, just ignore it. It’s not really there, it’s just trying to get to you,” he muttered, naively hoping it might drown out the voices.

After some very long moments, she finally started to relax in his hold and her strained breathing smoothed out as the tension in her limbs melted away. Even so, he continued to hold her and felt angry at his own helplessness and angry at whatever it was that was inflicting this needless suffering on her.

 _“Just wait, buddy,”_ he thought angrily at the demon lurking just beyond them. _“When I get to you, you’re gonna pay for this…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I managed to make some tentacle monster jokes.


	19. The Mad God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Dante and Tess finally meet the good doctor.

Tess had blacked out from the violent assault upon her senses. Her vision had been scrambled and the mounting whispers had deafened her. Her head ached and she was so dazed that she barely registered that she’d fallen to her knees. She had pressed her hands to her head and shut her eyes, trying to block it out. Every time her second sight kicked in like this, it drove her wild with pain – and in such a place of all places!

Just when her eyes began watering from the sharp pain, the blaring started to dissipate slowly. She felt safe, unexpectedly. She breathed hard, slowly taking her hands off her ears and managed to open her eyes at last, to a strange sight. She was crumbled on the floor and being held by a demon. It had bright red eyes, a menacing appearance, all pointed angles and spines and a huge crimson corona of an aura. And yet… it seemed oddly familiar, its eyes so _human_. She thought of Dante. She blinked once and the vision was gone, she was looking up at the familiar mug she was used to.

He wasn’t even trying to hide his concern. His features were calm but there was a certain tense and anxious look his eyes that spoke volumes about what was going on in his head.

She took a deep breath and pulled back a little. “I think I'm ok now. It’s over now.”

“You sure?” he asked, reluctantly letting her go.

“Yeah. I don’t know why they’re getting so strong. It could be all this demonic presence around us or…or something else in this place,” she said quietly.

Dante’s eyes narrowed. “Like madness you can feel on your skin, right?”

She hesitated. “Yeah. It’s everywhere.” They stood up. “Let’s keep moving,” she muttered.

“After you, then,” Dante said, holding out his arm in a gesture of displaced chivalry.

Even so, he walked right beside her. Tess studied him for a moment. He’d grown unexpectedly quiet over the course of this sortie and she never thought she’d see him this way. It worried her a bit, what might be making him this grim but on the other hand she found comfort in his presence and the way he was dealing with the whole situation. It kept her calm too. Despite her brave face, she had been nervous since they first set foot in the building.

What was left of the cellblock wasn’t much to speak of. Their way back to the stairs had been cut off and the other end was blocked by heavy debris from the wall. They really only had one option left to them; they ventured down a narrow corridor that exited into the cellblock. It was dark and damp, with no windows, only rough and filthy concrete walls lined with small light fixtures that shed a cold light weakly. Some were in bad condition, flickering on and off occasionally.

Dante was irritable and on high alert, eyes darting around as he walked. He struggled to reconcile his burning anger and the desire to find the demon putting him through this circus with a growing awareness that this place was starting to get into his head. He was eager to fight, but he had to remind himself that he also had a job to do: Make sure Tess got out of this alive.

As much as he admired her determination to continue this effort, he also couldn’t stop thinking that for a human, even a witch, this was tantamount to suicide. Was it only really personal for them both? Dante didn’t think so. He suspected that, deep down, both were thinking of the bigger picture. A demon like this on the loose would cause nothing but misery to untold numbers of people. Something had to be done. And they were it.

“I…I think we’re underground again,” Tess said suddenly, looking around them.

Dante nodded. “And we just had ample proof that we weren’t,” he muttered. “I’m pulling the bullshit card on this thing.”

He almost growled in frustration at the silence. He always felt more comfortable in the thick of battle, facing the enemy directly, rather than skulking about, and playing games like this. The deeper they went into this suffocating passage, the more he felt agitated and aware, his gut feeling urging him to keep his guard up.

“It’s so strange…” Tess said. “Space is so twisted and yet… we’re going the right way. I can’t explain how I know it. This passage just… feels familiar but I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before.”

“Guess we really are just getting strung along,” he just said.

“Hey…” she said and stopped in her tracks.

Dante turned. “What?”

She stared at her feet. “I’m…I’m sorry you got dragged into all this. We’re so deep into this now. I think this has been about me all this time and… well, I got you involved. I’m so sorry. But I’m glad you’re here.”

She began to nervously curl some of her hair around her finger. “You kept me from freaking out back at the house…and now you’re here with me. I don’t know if I could get this far if you weren’t here.”

Dante felt his face warm in spite of himself and he was kind of glad for the awful lighting. “Heh, you’re giving yourself too much credit,” he said with a chuckle but then gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Even if you hadn’t gotten me into this, I would’ve been dragged in anyway. I tend to draw that kinda attention. So don’t let it get to ya. We’re gonna be fine.”

She managed to smile up at him weakly and he felt the need to draw her into a hug. She clung to him briefly but then pulled away.

“We should move. I don’t… like just standing here. We’re exposed.”

He nodded and they kept going. The corridor seemed endless, turning at seemingly random intervals and even turning back on itself. They did notice that it began to slope downwards and then abruptly brought them to a twisting flight of stairs. At its bottom a new passage, like a mine’s shaft, continued down-slope but the lights along its sides were much weaker and fewer in number.

Soon enough, the last semi-functional light was behind them. Tess was forced to conjure some fire to light the way. Ahead of them, the light created odd shadows against the walls over odd fixtures that seemed to stretch out of the walls. Dante squinted to get a better look at what they might be and for a moment he thought they looked rather like roots, but that didn't make so much sense in an underground _concrete_ passage. As they got closer to those obstructions, the passage felt like it was growing narrower… or maybe it was just a claustrophobic feeling he got.

Ahead of them, in the distance, a faint light indicated an end to the tunnel.

As they approached, Tess started to press against him and away from the walls, while looking at them very cautiously. Dante’s alertness mounted as they started passing them. They looked like random uneven rises and bulges in the concrete at first. The weak light ahead and the flicker of the flame didn't allow them to see much but he studied the structures as they got closer and he thought the objects on the walls looked like _figures_.

The light was enough now to see them closely and Tess turned her hovering right round to inspect them and found herself staring at a man's face—he looked like he was growing out of the wall, the torso stretching out of the concrete, while one of his arms was sunken into it up to the elbow. The eyes were dark and empty and the skin pale and looked like stone. The face looked eerily alive. The sight caused her to press up against Dante closely and gasp.

Dante felt like he was in some carnival’s haunted house ride, studying the figures around them. He didn’t let Tess linger here, he tugged her along gently. He wasn’t sure if these were actually alive somehow or not but he didn’t want to risk it. They found that the entire passage was _covered_ by these human figures growing out of the walls and ceiling haphazardly. There was no order to it; torsos, heads, arms, legs – all grew pell-mell out of the concrete, almost on each other and were petrified in a sort of frantic motion frozen in time. The figures clung to the walls mostly, but loose limbs would stretch out, immobile.

Tess remained silent as her instincts told her to do so, because it might wake those horrifying things up. Deep down, though, she wanted to scream. Fortunately for both, Dante must’ve noticed her tension and kept calm, squeezing her hand to distract her. She took a deep breath to calm down, but to no avail. She felt the hair on the back of her neck prick up and her entire body grew tense. She observed the figures on the wall.

They _seemed_ to be made of stone and any of the faces that were visible felt like they were looking straight down at them. She began noticing their expressions; they ranged from fear, to despair, to anger. She wondered who they might be. They seemed human enough and she got the strange notion that they might be past residents of the asylum…

She turned to Dante to share her thoughts but saw him looking closer at the walls and the figures, suddenly coming to a stop. Dante didn't look at her. He seemed to have caught sight of something.

“What is it?” she asked quietly.

Dante’s gaze was fixed on the walls, studying the figures. He looked like he knew something was off and it made her worry. She tried to see what he might’ve seen but in the gloom and her mounting worry it became hard. She wasn’t certain she could trust what she was sensing, given how choked with demonic power the very air was. He suddenly brought his hand to his sword’s hilt and after a moment’s hesitation he drew it.

“Dante, what’s the matter?” she pressed more anxiously.

“Shh…” he hissed and held the sword at his side. “Let’s get some more light here. Light me!” he said in an abrupt tone.

That line was so out of place that she really thought he’d been messing with her just to get her mind off things or something along those lines.

“I… Sorry, _light you_?” she blurted. “What, you want your pants on fire?”

But his tone upon response was a little bit nervous and it made her uneasy. “Not the time to joke, Tess.”

Tess looked warily at the figures, which suddenly looked to be angry and malicious, yet in deep pain as well. They heard a faint crumbling sound and then smelled moist soil. A small cloud of dust precipitated down around them.

“Dante…they’re trying to _move_ ,” she uttered.

“I know,” he growled.  

The shaft was very narrow and had a low ceiling. It wasn’t an ideal set of circumstances for a fight with multiple enemies. Tess backed up beside him, feeling her heartbeat accelerate to a rapid thump.

Dante suddenly _demanded_ once more. "Dammit, Tess! The sword! Light it!”

Before she could reply, a crackle came from the side. She bit her lip. Suddenly it was coming from all over. The rock groaned and ground together and bits began falling from the ceiling and walls. The figures began moving with odd, erratic movements like the uncontrollable flailing of a defective machine, alternating between odd, rapid twitching and slower, almost spasmodic movements. Their heads particularly wouldn't stop twitching and making odd rattling noises.

The ones with free torsos moved strangely, shaking their shoulders in odd angles, as if they were trying to crawl out of the wall. Tess let a shriek when one of the figures' faces crumbled off to reveal the creature underneath: A blackened skull with hollow sockets and only eerie dark blue flames in them, with constantly rattling teeth and heads twitching from side to side erratically. They didn't have a voice, only that erratic rattling and the creaking of bones, like stone grinding on stone.

The entire passage suddenly became a mass of writhing bodies and flailing arms that stretched and sought to grab anything nearby. A large, gnarly hand wrapped around Dante's sword arm and others grabbed at his waist, but only caught a handful of his coat. Yet another grasped a handful of Tess' hair. She screamed as her head was yanked to the side when the hand tugged her away. She lost her footing and stumbled sideways, where another hand grabbed her arm. Their grip was inhumanly strong and she saw even Dante struggling to free himself.

Fighting to keep these things off herself with fire, but unable to pry her hair loose, she stretched her hand towards Dante, who was being dragged towards the wall where other hands were trying to catch him. As the scorching words left her mouth in a panic and three circles of fire blazed up under him, grasping hands tried to reach her face and gag her.

It was much easier the second time around and if she were not in a panic she might’ve noted it even worked better. The thin flames forming the circles surged and abruptly shrank towards their own center under Dante's feet and the red bolt that came from their meeting traveled up his body and into the sword, making it ignite into flames. The marvelous display of flickering fire illuminated the now writhing, living tunnel to its full horror.

Dante grunted as he tried to pry himself free but the harder they both tried to break free, the tighter the grip of the figures became. His blade arm was pinned to a nearby wall and his other arm was about to meet the same fate with no less than three hands grasping it firmly. He heard blasts of fire but it sounded like Tess was reluctant to really let rip in these confined spaces.

“Tess!!” he shouted, his tone laced with worry.

“They’re too strong!” she replied over the din. “I can’t—can’t burn them!”

The creatures were actively trying to separate them, dragging Tess away slowly, a myriad hands pawing at her and scooching her along. That was the last straw for him, because he snarled angrily and his aura suddenly erupted into plain view, a vivid, furious crimson that swelled and stunned the strange creatures with its force. He bared his teeth and thrashed, little by little tearing away from the grasping hands. In his struggles, he saw Tess still trying to keep the creatures from gagging her, a small burst of flame appearing near the ceiling, resulting in shrill screaming from the figures and a temporary lapse in their tugging.

The half-demon finally pulled free from the bound creatures and went about forcing them into submission. The sword flashed in his hands as he did his utmost to maneuver it in these cramped quarters, cutting through stretching limbs and torsos. He hacked some clean off the walls, the pieces crumbling to dust once detached. He kicked the head of one of them, snarling at the creatures’ mindless persistence.

The hands of the creatures had forced her to stare up at the ceiling blindly where all she could see were more of these squirming, trapped demons. Flailing arms, skulls with fiery eyes and the erratic twitching and thrashing of restrained body parts was all she could make out. She felt a wave of heat passing nearby and supposed that Dante must’ve been getting close but was still fighting off the persistent things.

Her hair was still trapped in a grasping hand and she was pushed and pulled along the wall with more flailing arms stretching out for her. She struggled to resist this constant hand-over but then an arm slid around her waist and pulled hard, backing her into the wall and making her yelp. She winced in disgust, as the wall behind her squirmed—it was actually the torso of one of those things. She managed to see that the creature’s head was pulled back and absorbed into the wall, so it had blindly grabbed her about the waist and pulled. She used her free arm to beat off another clingy hand that was tugging at her shirt and tried to pry away the arm fastened around her waist, hardly able to see what she was doing. In her frustration she turned to fire and succeeded in singing herself.

She heard a muffled scream but the attack had the opposite effect of what she wanted. The arm only tightened around her, slowly suffocating her. She choked and then shouted when the hands pulled her head further back, making her arch back painfully. The flailing limbs of the creatures grabbed both her arms and another arm wrapped around her chest from over her shoulder and pinned her from moving. She thrashed, making fire flare up from anywhere around her that she could, trying to burn the hands and make them release her.

She had her eyes shut most of the time and when she peeled one eyelid open and saw what was coming from above her, she let a terrified scream. One of the creatures was lowering its head towards her face, staring down at her with the eerie blue fires it had as eyes and when it opened its skeletal mouth a disgusting long and pointed tongue flicked out towards her, along with a yellowish haze that smelled rotten and vile.

“Dante!!” she screamed. “A cool rescue would be just the thing right about now—“

The rest of it was lost in a drawn scream that sounded like _'don't touch me'_. Dante heard her and growled as he finally cut through the last of the monsters between him and her. The sword burned with fury as it sliced through the wretched things and Dante stomped on cut limbs underfoot on his way to her.

“Get _OFF HER_!” he barked.

He swung Rebellion with fury and though it seemed reckless, his aim was flawless. Tess blurted a shriek and shrugged defensively while he came in like a rabid animal, hacking away at the creatures. The face looming over her was cleaved in two with just one hit and the split head spattered down a vile black liquid instead of blood. Some of it dripped on her back as she leaned away, trying to pull free and she shuddered with a gasp. He chipped away at the living effigies clinging to her, taking out a hand grabbing at her arm, then a forearm, then pieces of stone skull as if he was sculpting away at the squirming mass until their hold on her grew loose and she broke free of their grip and pulled away from the wall, leaving strands of hair in grasping hands.

Dante, aware that neither of them could keep this up for long, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her along him as they darted down the corridor, with more stone hands reaching for them as they ran. She was all too eager to follow and was in fact able to keep up with him as he ran. Dante would occasionally swing his sword ahead of him and cut down a creature that came too close to seizing them. Hands would swing at them, now snatching at his coat, now barely brushing against her hair and shrieking all the way.

Ahead of them, a faint light interrupted by the constant squirming of bodies on the walls promised an exit from this hellish passage. It was a dim, pale gray and red light and compared to the dark, the heat and rotting air in the passage, it seemed welcoming. Anything was better than this hellhole.

They ran past the squirming, wall-bound demons and Dante realized too late that the passage ahead came to a sudden stop, far above the ground. Their momentum prevented any kind of stop and they were flung out of the end of the passage at speed and down a short drop of several feet. His sword’s fire went out abruptly but he had other things to worry about. As fast as he could, Dante pulled Tess against him, turned and managed to land on his feet with her, but then they both toppled backwards. They hit a smooth, almost polished floor of dark marble run with white like creeping vines.

The thud of their impact was loud and echoed throughout the vaulted space. There was a pale light diffused in the air, but neither had the energy or presence of mind to investigate.

Tess groaned as she sat up, rubbing her arm and shoulder. “Dante? Are you ok?”

Dante grunted as he stood up. “Yeah. You alright?”

He pulled her to her feet. “I'm ok. But—“

They warily looked around them.

The place they had ended up in was _massive_. Dante at first thought it was some kind of underground cavern, its expanse easily matching a cathedral’s interior. The ceiling stretched high above them but as he got a better look at it, he realized that it had evidently been enhanced by human hands sometime in the past. There were no stalactites on the ceiling but there were signs where they had been sawed away. Vaulted arches provided support and large pillars gave the space some definition. Large, antique lamps full of softly glowing flame hung from the ceiling, providing illumination.

They had landed on an elevated part of the floor, looking down onto the rest of the hall like a stage, the floor worked with marble in stark contrast to the rough tiles of the rest of the floor. The furthest part of the wall had evidently once been the entrance to a cavern that had been blocked quite thoroughly with masonry, huge blocks of stone that must’ve weighed several tons each. Dante glanced up at the aperture they’d tumbled out of; it was high up off the ground and looked like the burrow of a massive worm, moisture stains running down from it.

As the two teenagers tried to make some sense of where they’d found themselves, a voice and the sound of shoes clicking against the marble startled them.

“My, my, you two stir up _quite_ the racket. But the important thing is that _you're here_!” the man said, coming into the light from the shadows.

Dante felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck prickle up like the hackles of a wolf. It was the man whose transparent projection he had tried to slice at, just without that bizarre oil slick of an aura. Up close he was just as tall and pale but he looked actually fairly normal besides his moist and glistening eyes. He had an unsettling grin, his teeth just peeking through his slit of a mouth, and a narrow, hooked nose. His disheveled hair might once have been slicked back and now hung pitifully, greased and unkempt.    

He was dressed for seemingly another century, in a formerly crisp white shirt with a black vest tightly buttoned but his necktie was miserably askew and loose, yanked violently away from its prim and proper place. His dark gray trousers were spattered with blood.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you two!” he said, smirk persisting as he opened his arms halfway in a sort of creepy welcoming gesture.

Dante saw that his shirt was soaked in blood at the wrists, with more spattering up to the elbows. He had a strange sort of voice that was both familiar and new to Dante.

“I'm terribly obliged to you, young man,” the man said, grinning at him. “For helping Tess come to me. I was worried she would end up being late for her appointment. I’ve been waiting for so long to see her,” he added, tilting his head to the side slightly.

Dante felt tense and jumpy as soon as he set eyes on the man. Almost instinctively he put an arm out and gently pushed Tess behind him, keeping his grip on his sword with the other and his eyes on the man. There was something about his grin that made Dante bristle with frustration and irritability. He sensed a demon somewhere beneath that human guise, but he wasn’t quite sure how, yet.

Still, he found it in him to make jokes.

“Appointment?” he echoed. Then smirked. “ _Ooh_ , you must be the Twig’s girl-stuff doctor. Do me a favor doc, no more funny stuff; that ‘lemon fresh’ scent left a bad taste in my mouth.”

He relished Tess’ indignant splutter and the smack she laid onto his back angrily. He could picture her red face perfectly.

“This is not the time for dirty jokes, you dipshit!” she hissed.

The man on the other hand thoroughly appreciated the jest, throwing his head back and roared in laughter, slapping his thigh. It was loud and hoarse, like a dog's bark.

“You're funny, young man,” he managed eventually. “Humour’s a rare quality these days. But I'm afraid that my profession has little to do with the body.”

He paced away from them to talk, quite evidently pleased with the sound of his own voice. The longer he talked, the more Dante felt there was something demonic to him, hiding in plain sight. It was as if something was speaking through the man, like a creepy little ventriloquist’s puppet.

On edge, Dante found himself slowly moving so that he kept the man at a distance and at the same time, always facing him, with Tess closely mimicking him anxiously. The far back of the hall also became easier to scrutinize; the floor was strewn with old, faded patterns, covered in dirt and what looked almost like dark stains.

“I am a doctor of the mind,” the man stated coolly, tapping his temple. “You're in an asylum, after all. I trust you've seen my patients. _Fascinating_ people, the insane and disturbed, don't you agree?”

He glanced at them, his slit of a grin widening. “Tess, my dear, I’m delighted you’re here on time. We’ve got some unfinished business – but you know,” he carried on, fixing his gaze on Dante. “Now that I’ve got a better look at you… oh _yes_. I think you’ll benefit from my services as well.”

“No thanks, _doc,_ ” Dante snapped. “I’ve had enough crazy to last me a lifetime. So why don’t’cha take your batshit act and shove it where the sun don’t shine? ”

His hand tightened around his sword’s handle and his eyes narrowed, but he still smiled impetuously.

“Or we’ll _make_ you do it. And I gotta warn you, we’ve had a pretty bad day already.”

“He won’t do it,” Tess growled quietly. “He’s already made up his mind.”

Dante nearly started to chuckle because he could feel Tess’ frustration starting to bubble through her fear. He had a feeling that if she thought she could manage it, she’d leap at the man and take him out without a thought.

“You’re quite correct, my dear!” the man said, stopping in front of the back wall of the hall. It was a huge mural that stretched from the floor right to the ceiling, the top vanishing into the shadows. It depicted a hellscape of profound proportions, rising out of the mirk of the dark stone like a nightmare. Forms, both demon and human, twisted and writhed in silent agony – and yet faces seemed fixed in reckless, vacant abandon. Many forms forcefully reminded Dante of the gibbering, misshapen wretches he had cut down time and time again.

Above them all, the dark form of a large, glorious demon reigned over the scene. It seemed deceptively dominant but as you looked closer, you realized it was bound and suspended by thick chains, held aloft over the scene, against a backdrop of curious patterns deeply carved into the stone.

A seal, even.

The man just stared up at the mural with his hands clasped together firmly at his back.

“A bit too hasty in your judgment, my young, half-fiend friend. Are you so sure that all the blame can be laid at my feet?” he said and glanced over his shoulder with a simper. “You _do_ remember, I hope, that circle of protection around the building? Potent stuff. How do you think we ever got through _that_ , hmm?”

“Liar!” Tess snapped suddenly. “He didn’t do anything!!”

Dante just scowled. “Hell if I care how you--“

“We couldn't cross it, sadly,” the man interrupted. “You _could_. You did and on top of everything...you began to live right in its center. We didn’t so much find them as _follow you home._ Witches can only alter them so much, you know, before they get _weak_. In other words my dear boy, you _let_ _us in_ ,” he said with a simper. “And you were all too happy to run about – all I had to do was to throw you some bait – I did learn you like getting into trouble, after all.”

Dante felt his eyebrow twitch. _“Is he saying—no,”_ he thought, grinding his teeth in silent fury. _“No… no, no, no… this asshole’s screwing with me. I didn’t… do anything…”_

“Don’t listen to him—!” Tess snapped.

But the man continued undaunted. “It’s really quite a pain to find the _right_ kind of human who can tolerate being turned into one of my… shall we say, _hands._ Most don’t make the cut – you’ve seen them. Useful but ultimately too fragile. But as I hoped, I got your attention long enough.”

He grinned. “I did mention it’s challenging to try and be in multiple places at once but you know, now it really doesn’t matter. You brought her to me. I'm _infinitely_ obliged. _Ooh_!” he exclaimed, holding up his hand and snapping his fingers.

“And of course—of course, you rid me of Chernobog. I was worried he’d get in the way, when he made this his new territory. So I did try to reason with him – you saw how obnoxiously he resisted me, nearly ruined everything! Just when I thought it was all at hand. Almost killed our precious little Twig,” he purred and Dante nearly charged him there and then as the man’s eyes grew pitch dark and his smile sinister.

He whirled around and held his arms open, daring Dante to attack. “Now, do you understand? You’ve nothing to blame me for beside your own, willing actions. Demon is as demon does.”

“Shut up—“ Dante growled.

Dante felt certain he was about to explode with anger. And he probably would have, if not for Roy’s warnings suddenly tumbling to the fore.

_Don’t blame yourself._

_This was never your fault._

Hearing the old man’s words roll around his head like that forced Dante to keep calm. Roy was right – there was no reason to blame himself. It was all this bastard’s fault! He irritably pointed the tip of his sword at the man.

“Let’s get one thing straight: I did _nothing_ for you, screwball. You just jumped at an opportunity, like a freakin’ vulture. We’ve been at this game for a couple of months now and I’m pretty fed up.” He took a brave step forward. “And don’t call her 'Twig' again. Only thing you’re getting is a free ticket back to whatever Underworld shit-hole you crawled out of. In pieces.”

The man’s smirk had widened into a twisted, impossibly wide grin, like a slit carved with a knife from ear to ear almost, all narrow pointed teeth that could not belong to a human. He removed his glasses with calm precision and folded them before stowing them away in his vest’s breast-pocket, revealing eyes now wholly, eternally black like the night sky. When he spoke again his voice was throaty and silky, but dangerously predatory.

“You don't understand, dear Dante, that you will _keep_ doing things for me because I already am part of you,” he mused. “I am part of everything, every living being with a sentient mind. There is _madness_ in everything. It’s futile to protect the girl, because she was already mine, before you even came to this city. I've waited many long centuries for this and you are hardly going to impede my chance at freedom.”

Dante glared and behind him Tess grew tense and worried, her hand coming up to grab at his shoulder, to stop him from just rushing the man.

As the doctor spoke, he seemed be breathing deeper, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath he took. “In fact, you are going to be the one who sets me free from the last binds of my prison, whether you like it or not” he mused, raising one arm and gesturing the hall around them as he walked closer to them.

Dante knew what it was coming down to now, he could read it in that freak’s movement and he was glad for it. Things were about to get bloody.

“Tess, get back. _Now_!” he said, pushing her back.

The girl backpedaled wisely but did not retreat, and moved to get behind the man to attack from there. Dante saw no reason to hold back any longer and thrust the blade ahead to strike the man’s face, just as he walked closer with a confidence that made the boy bristle. The doctor moved his head out of the blade’s way with ease and backstepped as the sword came in again in a wide arc for another hit.

“Ooh, oopsie daisie there!” he chuckled and it just made Dante angrier.

“So what do we call you, anyway,” Dante growled.

Rebellion’s blade swung perilously close to the doctor as he dodged it with a dexterity that seemed inhuman and then, against all odds, he snatched the edge of the blade as it came for him, easily deflecting it and holding on. He seemed entirely unfazed by the fact that the blade was embedded into his hand, blood streaming from the palm. He chuckled in amusement and got in Dante’s face so that the boy had to stare into his black holes of eyes.

“My real name? My boy, what good manners! I’m afraid no human mouth can fathom my true name,” he cackled. “And I have so many that it’s a headache to get around to them all. But you may call me _Chax_ , the Mad God.”

Dante grunted and tried to rip Rebellion out of the freak’s grip but a firm jerk produced nothing and he stared in confusion as the man’s grin grew hungry.

“And you should, stupid boy,” he purred. “You’re going to be my newest subject.”

Dante had no time to react as the doctor cackled gleefully; the next thing he knew, the doctor’s free hand had grabbed at his face, palm splayed over Dante’s face and holding fast. The hand was inhumanly large and Dante felt the fingers grow long and crooked, the tips extending further and further and Dante felt them constrict around his head. He growled angrily and tried to jerk his head free but no matter how hard he thrashed he was unable to free himself from this creature’s grip. He tried to pry the creature’s hand off him but to no avail.

A sudden weakness overcame him and without warning, Dante felt _ill._ His sword arm felt like rubber. Eyes wide, he grunted, finding it hard to stand, his knees were noodles. He felt sick but not physically, it was no sensation he could identify; it was primal and visceral like an _invasion._ He felt dirty, on the inside. He tried harder to force the man off him but found that he was just laughing quietly and pressing him down, looming over him with a mad grin.

Tess screamed his name and between the fingers of this thing, Dante saw her run towards the man, he saw the luminescence start to form as she closed in –he wanted to tell her to run away but his throat was paralyzed. The tongue of fire bloomed but she never made it, because the doctor creature abruptly turned, still holding onto Dante’s face. He let go of Rebellion and the tip of the sword clattered to the floor with a metallic snap, Dante feeling his arm too weak to hold it up. He watched the doctor creature stare her down and his injured hand stretched out and the lash of fire collided with it, extinguishing instantly with an angry hiss of scorched flesh. Tess stopped in her tracks, staring dumbly as the doctor creature giggled and shook a burned finger at her emphatically.

“Ah-ah- _AH!_ Naughty, naughty Tessie!” it admonished. “You’re not supposed to be playing with the boys _yet_!”

Tess back stepped away from it, unknowingly backing up towards the mural. Dante tried to move, to speak to warn her about the surge of power he felt but the figures in the mural seemed to stretch, reaching out like solid shadows. She screamed as they pulled her back against the wall suddenly, slamming her into the stone and pinning her to the wall, layers and layers wrapping over her as if the paining was trying to pull her into itself. Shadows like gauze stretched and covered her mouth and pinned her arms, wrapping her tightly and forcing her to stand still. The closeness was unbearable and Dante saw her shiver in revulsion. She couldn’t hope to use fire against them like that, she’d burn herself.

With her out of the way, the doctor creature turned its empty gaze back at Dante, still grinning. Its hand hadn’t slacked from his face and Dante grunted powerlessly at it.

“Besides, I’m not quite finished with your friend, here,” it said smoothly as Dante choked and snarled. “My, my, you’re perfect. A real half-demon.”

It laughed out loud. “Who knew! You’ll make my most interesting patient yet, I’m sure. Why, you may even last more than the good doctor here, heeheehee!” it giggled. “You’ll get me out of this pathetic body and this seal for good! It’s so exciting I think I’m going to cream myself!”

Dante was too busy feeling like the doctor creature was _doing something to him_ , to notice Tess struggling against her bonds, sparks of fire fizzing from her. He was battling with the horrible feeling of being _invaded_ – but there were no physical sensations he could identify and yet at the same time he felt palpable, probing fingers reaching into his skull, almost, into _him._ He felt frightened by something in him stirring and _responding_ to this invasion. He felt sick and… polluted.

Something in him uncoiled _._ Dante was all too familiar with the tug, the scrap of his demonic urges at the door that he set between himself and it but now it felt like whatever was worming into him was reaching out to his demonic tendencies, the ones he batted down at every turn… and they were listening.


	20. Edge of Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dante gets stabbed in the heart.

Tess watched in horror as the human vessel of the demon Chax brought Dante to his knees with nothing but a simple grip on the boy’s face. She could see what it was doing to him. His aura, bright and angry and lashing, started to change. A sickly gray began to spread in the brilliant red and the shape of the aura twisted, painfully. Dante grunted, trying to move, his sword arm lead stiff and only capable of a pathetic twitch or two. She wanted to scream, to order Dante to _move_ , to get away from the thing but her voice was muffled by the shadow bonds pressing her to the wall mercilessly.

“Oh do be quiet, dear!” Chax cackled from within the shell of the man. “I’ll be right with you in a moment!”

She watched Dante’s aura start to expand, even as it twisted and thrashed like a wounded animal. He appeared to recover and suddenly lurched forward, swinging his sword clumsily, forcing Chax to back off – the fingers of its hand hit the floor as it pulled away but the demon seemed unaffected; it just simpered. Dante struggled to his feet, panting like he’d run a marathon and perspiration dotted his brow.

“Ya think… that’ll stop me?” Dante grunted. “You’re going… down…!”

Chax’s black hole eyes narrowed in mockery. “Am I, now? I really wonder how you’ll accomplish that,” he chuckled, spreading his arms casually. “You think you’re quite special, being what you are? I wouldn’t be surprised if you were nothing but the lucky spawn of some idiot incubus and a half-wit human cow. Nevertheless… you’ll do.”   

The last grin seemed to cause Dante to lose his composure entirely. His aura roared silently in rage and in a fit of completely uncharacteristic fury, he charged the man. His demonic nature fairly exploded out of him, his eyes gleaming red and his hands swelling as claws burst from his fingers. His face was fixed in a bestial snarl, all predatory fangs and Rebellion screamed through the air from the power of the swing.

“SILENCE!” he roared and Tess whimpered quietly at the raw anger behind it and the way it warped his voice into a primeval roar.

It sounded so… _alien,_ coming from him.

The powerful swing was but a first assault and the momentum carried him forward through a second one in rapid succession and they were truly brutal assaults.

“You want crazy, I’ll _show_ you crazy!” the teenager snarled.

Chax merely chuckled and all but allowed the blade to strike him, catching him first under the chin, fairly slicing his head in two. The force knocked him off his feet before the second caught him on the diagonal with such violence that he was propelled backwards into the wall, smacking against the mural with a squelching wet crack and the awful splatter of blood. Tess shrieked in vain against her gag as blood sprayed down at her feet before the body flopped gracelessly in a pile on the floor at the base of the mural. The broken body twitched a few times before it became still.

Dante breathed heavily in fury, holding the sword after the strikes, staring blankly.

And yet the voice persisted, now velvety and yet hard like stone, reverberating as if through multiple throats, speaking all at once.

“Very good, Dante. We’re _definitely_ making progress, you and I,” it said. “Now relax, this won’t take long. And try not to resist, you might find the experience overwhelming.”

Tess sort of _sagged_ in her binds, watching Dante drop to a knee as his aura strained and struggled with the sickly gray worming itself through the red like a spreading disease, its core darkening to a swirling black that throbbed throughout it. Dante’s aura reacted with what could only be excruciating pain. Tess squirmed in her binds; seeing that sickly invasion made her feel physically ill. Behind her the mural and the wall thrummed like a heartbeat and she choked another muffled scream. She felt enveloped in a spreading miasma that sent a spear of headache straight through her skull.

The wall throbbed again and she was able, with effort, to turn her gaze upwards and find that the seal carved deep into the stone above her as part of the mural seemed to glisten with a sinister, creeping light that shied and dipped in elusive ripples. The broken body beside her started to twitch erratically and then suddenly rose as if plucked up and set on its feet with a surge of cracking noises as shattered bones and gristle rearranged. The blood spattered on the mural _boiled_. The stone seal trembled.

The human form shivered and the skin and clothes began to smolder and fall off like ash as the body uttered a shaky, deep-throated roar. The shape warped and hunched over, flesh rippling and roiling sickeningly until it seemed to almost turn inside out, warping violently into something larger that unfolded out of the snapping bones and tearing flesh, into something larger.

The demon seemed to disrobe the human form carelessly and stood straight. Taller than any human, towering nearly four meters of wiry build, the skin was smooth and the color of old soot, crisscrossed by glistening, blood-red serpents that coiled round each other in an orgy of illusionary motion. Patchy brown and dark red, scaly skin like a giant scab covered the left side of the chest and the entire arm, large bone spurs growing out of it along the shoulder, piercing the flesh.

Straightening itself, its arms uncurled from near its chest with lengthened elegance, stretching each long and sharpened claw of the large hands with deliberate relish. The remains of a resplendent garb of gray and gold hung about its legs, dark cloth dragging on the floor, fastened to the legs with heavy bronze greaves, elegantly carved and in stark contrast to the horrid reptilian talons of the feet. Heavy chain links clinked round its forearms, wrapped round bronze bracers that weighed its limbs down.

It finally flexed its back, standing straight and tossing back a deceptively human-looking head with a shock of powder-white hair that hung in odd patches, parted by a single jagged horn curving up from the forehead, with two more swelling out of the temples before curving back and up, giving the head an odd shape. It seemed to study the space around it with interest… except a filthy strip of wide cloth was fastened around its eyes, matted from filth and dark stains. Its thin mouth stretched into a wide, fanged smile of jagged, uneven teeth. It stretched lavishly once more.

“ _Mmmm_ , not perfect but it feels good to have a foot in the human world properly again,” it purred. “I was getting rather sick of the poor doctor, but his body served me well enough, don’t you agree? I gave him extra years and he gave me his life blood! Fair trade, I think.”

It seemed to relish being able to move and padded forward with delight in every step. Two long, draconic tails stretched and curled behind it as it moved, the bone spurs on their ends clicking and clacking together gently.

“How I've missed the damn _ELBOW ROOM_ _!_ ” it roared in exquisite pleasure, stretching its arms to the sides.

At the peak of the cheer, two leathery wings weighed by heavy bone spines unfurled and stretched luxuriously, despite the shorn and tattered hide barely stretching between the limbs that offered little hope of actual flight. Bronze chains and other adornments paradoxically hung off the limbs, as if to make up for the clipped wings of the demon.

Tess didn’t think she could ever take her eyes off the monstrous demon until movement at the far end of the hall made her look and she shuddered. Throngs of the twisted demons that had once been people swarmed from the darkness clinging to the edges of the room. They gathered in the space, writhing and howling like a parody of a congregation of worshipers come to pay homage to their god.

Chax looked down at them and shivered gleefully. “My dear patients! My subjects!” it hissed. “We’re nearly ready… ready for a last great feast,” it purred, turning to Dante again and padding closer as the boy struggled to stay standing.

His gaze was completely unfocused and he was swaying like a ship caught in a storm. He stared dumbly up at Chax, disoriented, leaning on his sword for support. He was breathing in hard rasps, trying to make sense of his situation. Tess saw his forehead drenched in sweat and his lip trembling as his eyes seemed to be trying desperately to stay focused on the demon, bloodshot and almost puffy. His aura was suffused with far too much gray and Tess saw the red flickering as the gray throbbed like a sickening heartbeat. The aura curled, seemingly shriveling in on itself.

The demon tilted its head and seemed to be studying the teenager with avid interest. “Don’t fight it, Dante. Repression is a bad thing, after all, hmhmhm…” it mused. “You’re a demon, aren’t you? Just take your hands off the wheel for a change and _live it_ , kid.” Then it grinned widely. “Fighting it too hard… ooh, kiddo, it might _break your soul in half,”_ it crooned with malevolent glee.

Dante snarled up at the demon weakly but then suddenly dropped to his knees, allowing the sword to fall out of his hands with a clatter. He choked a strange, strangled bellow and grabbed his head, stifling pained yelps. Tess struggled against her bonds, watching his aura thrash and balloon outwards, fighting against invisible bonds – it seemed to get thicker and she was certain that now it would be plainly visible for everyone to see. Something was clawing its way out of him and Dante was trying to resist in the face of the inevitable.

He shivered visibly and Tess sensed that he was panicking and losing control. His demonic side could no longer be contained. He suddenly threw his head back and let a savage scream. It was like a pressure valve failing; his aura burst into a wide, writhing flare that became increasingly speckled with gray and black.

“Oh… _oh_! Yes! Let go, damn you. Let go. Let me see what you’re really like!” Chax giggled. 

Tess felt herself sag in fear as Dante’s form shifted, skin and clothes melding together to a dark, nearly black and crimson shell, the texture a mixture of rock and elegant scale. She caught sight of his eyes as he agonized, wide and red and furious as his hair wrapped itself into two horns that swept back and up and grew into jagged barbs. He screamed and his teeth were growing into large fangs as his mouth fixed into a savage snarl. She saw his guns slip out of his coat with a clatter and his hands and feet swelled and warped into primal talons and claws, big as sickles.

A sharp roar, throaty and resonating poured out of his chest, overtaking any human sound of pain, anger and refusal. It pierced her ears as Dante crumbled on all fours, still trying to fight the frenzy overtaking him. She could see it in his aura, his demonic side was going berserk, forced into being before its time and he couldn’t control it. His form kept trying to shift back and Tess whimpered.

This was... wrong. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t what he _should_ look like, even as a demon – she’d seen what he looked like, this wasn’t his own still half-dormant demonic blood, this was whatever Chax had done to him, she could see it festering in him like poison.

The form seemed to win out at last and settle and Dante stayed crouched like a wild animal, breathing hard; the glow of a gem – the amulet he wore – pulsed on his chest weakly until it was swallowed by the settling monstrous demonic form. He growled quietly, sounding like he was trying to stop himself from even moving.

Tess glared at Chax who padded around Dante with all the excitement of a little child given a shiny new toy. She suspected that the demon was controlling Dante somehow – if not directly like Chernobog, then at the very least stoking his suppressed violent tendencies and stripping back his sanity. It was now painfully obvious to her that Chax was somehow _feeding_ on the madness it created in others – she could see it in Chax’s sickening aura.

It made sense, really, if this demon had somehow been trapped in this seal, that having a _mental asylum_ plopped on top of it would’ve awakened it; fed it. She wondered how long this demon had been growing stronger before it could reach out despite the shield and _spread_ its madness like a virulence. She wondered about all the people trapped here with it before the asylum closed. 

And now she wondered if it was literally going to devour Dante’s mind.

Chax bent over him, grinning obscenely. “You’re _perfect,”_ it crooned. “Now be a dear and get to work.”

With little prompt, Dante roared angrily and flung himself away from the demon as though he wasn’t sure exactly how to move. He stumbled towards the writhing mass of wretched demons beyond the raised floor and then leaped into the horde with a howl. The whole mass of them closed in on him and what began as an attack turned into a bloodbath. Dante tore through them bare-handed like they were tissue. He tore through flesh and bone, ripping limbs and tearing them apart, effortlessly crushing skulls in one hand.

Tess squirmed in despair. She could hear him _laughing_ maniacally with abandon with a deep, throaty rasp. The demons attacked him in droves, trying to grab or tear at him but he was not daunted, leagues above these twisted humans in power. He stood merely at a man’s height and size but his strength was immense, his speed unmatched. He shrugged off everything thrown at him.

Chax looked on, like the owner of a fighting dog whose pet was now thrown into the arena and was savaging its opponent and making him profit. The demon lord smiled widely, and applauded slowly.

“ _Yesss_ … that’s it, you arrogant pup. Just let it rip. Who the hell needs sanity and control anyway?” he cackled and then shivered pleasurably. “ _Oooh_ … ahahahahaa, that tickles. I haven’t felt this good in such a long time,” it purred. “I can almost hear your mind cracking under the pressure! Come on, stop fighting back and enjoy it. I know you’re having fun over there!!” it laughed in delight.

Tess could watch no longer. She had grown fatigued of trying to break out of this living demonic straightjacket pinning her to the mural and her whole body ached. She felt ill from the overwhelming demonic power in the air and her head throbbed with pain. She swallowed down a bit of bile rising to her mouth in disgust, taking a deep breath through her nose to keep herself from getting tunnel vision. She couldn’t afford to faint, she needed a clear head and –

She looked up suddenly, and for a moment, the demons were barely there. The moment dragged on, suspended in time. She saw, ever so faintly, people standing around her, looking at her, shielding her from the demons. They all wore blindfolds. There were men, women, young old – they all stood in silence and looked at her. She could see right through them but she wasn’t afraid. In fact, she felt… relieved? Comforted, somehow. She knew these people even though she’d never seen them before.

They looked up behind her and they all pointed. She fought to look over her shoulder at the seal above her. As Tess watched, suddenly a large crack happened upon the seal, breaching it violently. She heard the crackle of stone, the crack trying to widen. She looked back at the specters desperately. Yes, she understood, they had been the people to seal this demon away under the ground the asylum was later built on. She got it now; the corpse they’d seen being eaten by the tentacle demon must have been the last of them, the lone surviving scion coming to try and stop the dam from bursting. And look how he ended up.

This coven dying out must have been why the asylum was even built here in the first place; without guardians to look after it, the natural power of the demon influenced what happened to it and the asylum fed it in turn.

What did they want her to do!? They were a coven; she was a single, young witch with little experience in these things! She shook her head in disbelief but the specters just gazed at her blindly.

She had a far more immediate problem to deal with, bound and pathetically helpless as she watched Dante suffer this indignity. He laughed horribly, insanely, butchering the weaker wretches like a cat among cornered mice. The longer this went on, the more he would become lost, subsumed in the nature of the demonic revel in violence. His aura kept thrashing like an animal in a cage, constantly flickering from red to that sickening gray, like static.

Unable to cope, she tried fighting against her bonds once more, making weak bursts of fire erupt around her, but the sheer force of the demonic essence in the air and the way her arms were restrained only exhausted her. She was furious – at her helplessness, at the folly of their situation. She glared at Chax as he watched the spectacle with glee and felt guilt weighing her down. This had all been her fault, the demon had been after her and now Dante was paying the price. How could she have been so stupid as to think they could win?

She was startled to hear a painfully human scream coming from Dante and looking up she saw him pause in his onslaught to shake his head and stumble – he was fighting back!

 _“Whatever Chax did to him… it’s still working on him. It’s not complete,”_ she thought, seeing a glimmer of hope. _“I have to do something—but what the hell can I do? I don’t… I don’t know…”_

Chax suddenly turned around and padded up to her like a hungry leopard and yet at the same time, like a lord offering hospitality.

“You see, Tess? Isn’t it fun? He gives into the instincts of his nature so eagerly!” he asked her, grinning. “I bet he’s always that outrageous, isn’t he?”

Tess just glared daggers up at the demon from under her messy bangs, enraged. She only managed a muffled hiss.

He just laughed at her. “Now, now, little wasp, don't look so vexed. He’s just an unexpected bonus, you’re _still_ the guest of honor, here,” he added, gesturing at her. “Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?”

The ghastly arm gagging her finally pulled away and despite the terror of being face to face with what was obviously a powerful demon, she snarled.

“I have nothing to say to you,” she spat. “I have a gesture, but my hands are tied.”

Chax seemed taken aback for a second, then laughed harder. “You’ve got spark! I see what he likes about you!”

“What did you do to him!?”

His face seemed to be attempting a raised eyebrow. “Dante? Oh, I hardly needed to do anything. Just a bit of _encouragement_ to tap into what’s in him. I don’t know how or why, but he’s got such power under there. He’s having fun! Don’t mind him at all; we’ve got things to discuss.”

He actually knelt down to bring himself to her level and with a sharp claw under her chin, which she tried to pull away from him, wincing and grunting at the contact, forced her to stare directly at his face.

He was smirking as he pulled the blindfold off. “I rather have need of someone with your power.”

Tess shrugged, letting a disgusted squeal and looked away.

Chax's eyes were gouged out and the bloody sockets were two black holes over his diabolic smirk. It was horrifying.

“Yes, I know, bloody ugly I am,” he cackled. “I can still see… after a fashion. Not even colors,” it added coldly. “Your kind had a good reason to pluck out my eyes. I used to drive mortals and demons barking mad with just a good staredown.”  

Chax spoke hard and angry. “And then you witches ruined my fun. One coven, just up and blinded themselves to resist me long enough. Tore my eyes out with their stinking tricks and sealed me away here. It took me… so long to reach out at last. I couldn’t even possess people long enough, they just can’t take it! The good doctor held out the longest, he offered himself to me.”

He tapped his claw onto the hard floor ominously. “I just had to wait for that coven to die out, little by little. The last one bit it upstairs – you found him, didn’t you? Barely any power left in his blood. And now… here are _you_ , with sweet, potent blood and eyes that can see… oh, everything.”

His evil smile became wider and his chuckle got crazier. “Oh, your eyes are _SUCH_ charming things to behold,” he said, leaning in closer, empty sockets staring and yet not staring.

The arms restraining her came loose slowly, leaving her face to face with Chax as he towered over her. She shrugged away from him, pressing her back on the wall, revolted.

“Now, now, dear, don’t get all coy with me. Most demons don’t see anything particular in humans but you… you’re actually quite _promising._ Mummy dearest was quite the looker, I understand,” he purred, sending a shiver of repugnance through her. “No surprise daddy stayed so long. I expect one day you’ll take right after her. I mean… someone’s already hooked.”

He turned his head meaningfully towards Dante, still cutting through the crazed demons, making her glance that way before staring back at him as his tone changed.

“You have a rare gift, girl, a sight like that. I need eyes… and yours might do. It won’t return my power to drive everything mad with a glance but I’ll settle for seeing everything. After all, what good is a god who can’t see?”

He giggled and Tess thought he was about as insane as the demons he produced – and her blood ran cold. She knew exactly what the demon wanted. She was free but didn’t dare attack or flee, aware she was unequal to both tasks as she was. Her mind raced for a way out, for some solution. She tried to edge away along the wall but he had her cornered, leering down and likely reveling in the knowledge of exactly how much his implications terrified her.

“You’ve got a choice here, dear,” he purred. “It’s either your heart,” he said and licked his lips with an obscene, large tongue, “or your eyes… so give me those and I’ll see about giving you something you want. Or I’ll just _take_ both.”

Tess set her jaw and snarled, tearing herself off the wall with a large blaze that pushed the demon away and burned the mural behind her away, the ember front creeping up the wall and eating through the faded colors.

“Forget it!” she snarled, uncertain where this burst of courage came from. “I’m not _giving_ you anything, you crazy freak! You think I’m scared of you, well I’m not!”

Chax’s hand slammed on the wall as she dodged him and he snarled in anger, his tails whipping angrily. The way he was crouched, one hand on the wall, the motion of the tails and the bared teeth, forcefully reminded Tess of a grotesque lizard that had jumped out of a nightmare.

“You stupid girl,” he hissed. “You want it the hard way when I could spare you the suffering? I could take your eyes and leave you alive, if I go about it right… but now I’m thinking, it’d be fun to do it anyway and then feed you to your little buddy over there,” he chuckled malevolently. “A strapping young man like him, I’m sure he’d play with his food for _quite_ a while…”

Tess shivered in revulsion as she backed away further while Chax seemed to be padding after her like a cat ready to pounce. She didn’t dare to look away to Dante but just thinking that he might be hopelessly lost to his feral insanity made her feel she might burst into tears. Cornered and too frightened and angry to think of any way out, all she could do was backstep as the demon advanced, working up the courage to begin what would probably be a glorious if short-lived last stand against the half-blind demon now looming over her.

“GIVE ME YOUR EYES!” he demanded, snarling. 

Just as Tess was going to unleash some fire to push him back, the large demon suddenly stumbled sideways as Dante leaped onto his back like a rabid dog, snarling and trying to claw at Chax’s head. Chax roared and stumbled sideways and away from Tess, successful in throwing Dante off him. The berserker youngster landed on his feet in a skid with a sharp growl. Tess gasped quietly and stole a glance at the rest of the hall. The majority of the twisted beings had been decimated and the floor was covered in blood and entrails. The few remaining actually looked unwilling to pursue.

Apparently, Dante had lost interest in the weak fodder demons and sought a challenge more worthy of his power. He lunged back towards the large demon, his throat producing a growl that rose in pitch even as the human screaming underscored it as if trying to be heard. Tess ducked out of the way as Chax leapt aside, to let Dante’s clawed hand plunge straight through the stone wall with a crack like a gunshot before Dante charged at Chax once more.

Tess took advantage of the opportunity Dante accidentally gave her – yes, he stood between her and Chax but she could tell by his aura that had been no deliberate rescue. Dante simply wanted to mindlessly attack the demon and that just happened to be the best way. In fact, she rather feared the prospect of him changing his mind and attacking her. He was barely in control of himself and he was going for Chax with a recklessness that had nothing to do with his usual attitude. But now and again he’d stop, growl and sound like he was choking and even fell to his knees once before getting back up in his frenzy.

Dante charged the larger demon and the two collided with a heavy thud, fighting viciously in a bestial contest of fist and claw. Chax snarled as Dante’s claws caught him in the chest and finally he seized the crazed boy and slammed him into the floor with a resounding crack of stone. Then Chax kicked him hard enough to send him crashing into the wall, leaving a sizable dent. He stalked over with heavy footfalls to loom over the tortured half-demon.

“You pathetic, little fool. You want to get in my way _now_?” he snarled.

Dante sprang up and stared him down, with a sharp snarl. It only made Chax break into a sarcastic chuckle and glanced at Tess.

“ _Really?_ You want her for yourself? Goodness, I forget you’re in puberty!” he scoffed. But then he growled. “Too bad! I don’t feel like sharing, brat!”

He swung one of his massive arms and slammed it into Dante’s side, sweeping him up almost and crushing him into the wall, holding him up by the throat and lifting the frenzied boy off his feet. The half-blind demon glared down at him with a twisted smirk and _squeezed_.

“Stop! Leave him alone!” Tess shouted.

Without quite thinking about it, she made to run towards Chax while raising her arm to conjure a lash of fire.

“ _SILENCE_!” Chax barked at her, turning his gaze in her direction.

He only needed to flick one of his tails at her, putting out the flame and whipping her across the abdomen, sending her flying. She hit the ground on her back and tumbled backwards from the power of the blow. She lay there, groaning in pain and clutching her sides. She mumbled a helpless plea.

“Silly, pathetic witch! You're _all_ the same! Venturing into matters you should leave well alone!” Chax growled at her. “And you—you stupid boy,” he chuckled, glaring down at Dante. “I can't decide if you're brave or just an idiot. You think you can measure up to me just because you’ve got a little demon blood in you? Mad or sane it makes no difference! You’re still _A PATHETIC HUMAN BEING_!” he roared.

Dante struggled, flailing hard and hissing as Chax raised his other arm, crackling with fell power that seemed to gather and swell angrily.

Suddenly the hall itself trembled and bits of debris precipitated from the ceiling. Everything seemed to stop dead. Even the energy around Chax’s arm fizzled out as the demon looked up and around, puzzled.

“What?” he muttered, confused.

Tess stared up and behind her as another, stronger tremor rumbled the space and it felt like its source was closer. Before the large demon could react, the wall that Chax was pressing Dante onto exploded outwards. Pieces of stone went flying in every direction, accompanied by an angry, leonine roar meshed with a shout.

“GET OFF THE BOY, SCUM!”

A large form on four legs barreled in through the all, ramming into Chax’s chest and pushing him off Dante, who tumbled to the floor. The beast looked like the mix of a gigantic lion with a dragon. Slightly larger than Chax and twice as bulky, it seemed to command the space in all its golden brown glory. The large feline head was adorned with a rich dark mane crowned by a multitude of elegant, large horns. The fangs it bared were as big as a man’s arm and the burning amber eye contrasted sharply with the fresh scar that sealed shut the right one. Bone horns guarded the shoulders, forbidding assault as the muscular paws pinned Chax down, sickle-sized claws attempting to rend. Chax howled in rage and his claws struck out, catching nothing but the draconic scale plates covering the beast’s forelimbs, mixing with the sandy fur. The beast’s thick, tufted tail whipped in anger.

Tess pulled herself up to a knee, angrily discarding the loosened and dirty makeshift bandage she’d wrapped around her hand earlier. She took her eyes off the fighting beasts for a moment to find Dante, feeling the need to know where the hell he was – for her own safety. The berserker had tumbled from Chax’s grip and was now in a feral crouch, muscles coiled like springs ready to attack. Suddenly he snarled, apparently falling prey to his own complicated struggle and without an acceptable target he began to tear at himself.

Tess was hesitant to even get near Dante when he was like that. It tore her up to see him like that but she was frightened for her own safety. She glanced back at the battling beasts; Chax and the beast’s fighting had rolled them into the main floor where they battled with a mounting din of animalistic snarling and growling, punctuated by the vicious crash of bodies. The leonine creature succeeded in pinning the demon down with a paw on his face, roaring.

 _“This is bad… if Abraxas decided to come into the open…”_ Tess thought, suddenly leaping to her feet.

“Roy!” she called. “Roy! Roy—ABRAXAS!”

The real name of the djinn rolled around the hall like trickling sand and it carried the whisper of desert winds and the hard glare of the merciless Sahara sun. With his foe pinned temporarily, Abraxas dared a glance back at her.

“Tess!” he snarled. His voice was like the howling winds of a sandstorm. “This is getting out of control! Where’s Dante?”

Tess edged towards a wall to secure her flank against it, aware she was attracting too much attention to herself with the shouting – not to mention her hand was starting to ooze a little blood again.

“He's gone crazy!!” she shouted, pointing at him. “That freak did something to him! Look at him! He's—he's been _infected_ with something!”

Abraxas dared a glance back to see Dante continuing his painful thrashing and his snout wrinkled further with a snarl. Suddenly Chax struck at him with his claws and the two beasts scuffled briefly, roaring and growling at each other as they battled until Roy was able to snatch Chax by the wing with his fangs and toss him aside, into the side of the hall. The impact was so hard the hall was shaken.

“Tess! You need to stop him or he’s lost! We’ll have to kill him otherwise before he butchers us all!” he snarled.

Chax recovered from his stun and hurled himself at Abraxas, arms crackling with power.

“MEDDLESOME SANDLICKER!” the demon roared.

His claws tore at Abraxas’ face, who roared in pain and the two began a rough body-to-body battle, tumbling around and shaking the hall with their weight and force. Tess winced; Chax had evidently not recovered his full power yet as the seal on the wall was still relatively intact and Abraxas had yet to recover from his previous injuries, not to mention completing a very demanding mission. She yelped when Chax threw the djinn to the ground and towered over him, seemingly about to stab his arm through the djinn’s exposed belly. Abraxas however, pounced and snapped Chax’s arm in his jaws, dragging him down once more.

She had to tear her eyes away from the fight as she barely noticed some of the surviving wretches shambling towards her, attracted by her shouting and undoubtedly, the smell of her blood from her seeping hand. She cursed as one of the maddened, twisted demons reached for her, forcing her to conjure a lash of flame to knock it back. As another stumbled towards her, Dante suddenly lunged at it, tackling it into the floor and tearing its head clean off the shoulders with a swipe and then leapt straight at another one.

Tess had a hard time keeping an eye on him and the swarming devils at the same time and grew concerned that the corrupted former humans coming at her would inevitably draw Dante towards her too. Surely enough, after cutting down a demon in his way he hesitated and stared at her with a low growl but then a twisted human struck him from behind with a hatchet. The berserker snarled and whipped around to crater him into the wall nearby with a disgusting squelching noise before assaulting the rest until there were none left but scattered bits and blood covered him from head to toe.  

Tess scattered the last few wretches around her with fire and some well-aimed kicks but exhaustion was getting to her and one demon caught her in a lucky backhand that knocked her on her back. She had to roll aside immediately to avoid getting skewered by the rusty broken pipe it was holding. Before the demon could strike again, Tess yelped to see Dante’s hand stab clean through the demon’s chest with a squish. He pulled back and threw the demon against the wall with a loud cracking sound before he turned and stared at Tess for a brief moment, breathing hoarsely with soft grunts.

Tess stood stock still and they stared each other down for a moment before he started to stumble towards her with a wide, fang-filled grin that made her blood run cold. His aura flared with undisguised _hunger_ and she leapt to her feet, conjuring a large lash of flame that stalled him enough for her to swiftly move away from where she’d stood just before he reached her. He snarled in anger at being denied and as she backed away she saw his tongue roll over his fangs.

“Yes, I get it,” she growled.

She forced him back with another lash of fire, right to his face and heard the sizzle of hide and his indignant, angry howl. She instinctively reached for the small scabbard she’d stowed away at the small of her back and drew the knife. It felt so small in her hand suddenly, the blade feeling more like a toothpick than a functioning knife. All the same, grasping it filled her with sudden calm. How many generations of witches had wielded this? As scared as she was, the thought that dozens of witches of her family had lived long enough to pass it down, hand to hand, to one another, brought her hope.

Magda’s lessons, as grudging as they were, rang in her ears. _“Never forget,”_ the old woman said. “ _This knife is a tool of_ survival _first. That it can kill is almost an afterthought. Hesitating even for a moment with it renders it powerless. Do not, ever, question what you do with it.”_

She breathed out, suddenly everything becoming clear. “Oh Grams… I did always hate it when you were right… but thank you,” Tess whispered.

She evaded Dante once again and it only seemed to increase his irritation as he left a serious dent in the floor where she’d been standing. He was clearly intent on seizing her, pursuing her with thudding footsteps as she retreated from him, luring him far from where Chax and Abraxas were fighting and away from the immediate reach of the few remaining wretches. She used lashes of fire to keep him at a distance while keeping her own movements hard to predict, taking advantage of his lack of clarity of mind. He snarled angrily and she just glared.

“Don’t like it when you don’t get your way, huh?” she muttered.

She needed a clear head and a starting point or her idea would fail. She spoke a few hard words with edges like blades and Dante snarled in indignation as his advance was denied yet again by a bright little circle on the ground that closed around him, traced by flames and thrumming with power. He growled and threw himself at its circumference, bodily pressing against it. She felt it take and grunted quietly. It was hardly going to control him for long but she needed only seconds for her next act of folly.

She breathed out and held the knife close to her chest, without moving. She knew that the moment he breached that circle – and he would, he was too strong for her to hold him indefinitely – he’d barrel right into her. Her heart raced with fear.

 _“Alright then… You can’t cleanse demons but this is Dante. He’s still half-human. I just… have to cut out whatever is doing this to him,”_ she thought and gulped. “ _A wager, basically. My life, heck even maybe my soul, to pull this off. Give and take. Well, Dante if this fails we’re both gonna die so I hope you can forgive me. We’re better dead than crazy.”_

She breathed out just as Dante broke through the ward with an audible crack. She stood her ground. He came in so close that she could smell the blood drying on him and hear the low triumphant rumble in his throat. Yes, it said, I have you.

_“No you don’t.”_

His arms reached her just as she shouted out the terrible, circling words. They were cold as the edge of a sword and yet they _burned_ and hung and coiled in the air, penetrating and reverberating like the din of a bell right against them. Her arm swung true, without an ounce of hesitation. The knife sang in her hand.

Dante screamed.

_“I’m so sorry, Dante.”_


	21. Purging Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A monster is ousted.

Tess drove the blade of the knife hard into Dante’s chest, digging it in as far as she could, right as he nearly closed his hands around her neck. It was somewhat amazing she even got it through the tough demonic hide and flesh and bones. She pushed the blade nearly to the hilt, gritting her teeth. Dante stopped dead in his tracks with a hoarse, choked sound after his first scream. The words she’d said, terrible and hopeful, hung in the air like mist, stifling and cruel. Tess winced; the blade was nearly burning, she could feel the heat through the bogwood hilt.

Dante shuddered and sounded an ear-piercing screech like nails on a chalkboard; his skin began to crack around the wound, slowly curling off the muscle. He stumbled forward, grabbing onto her in a suffocating, deadly embrace like wanted to crush her and at the same time, hold himself upright. The hilt dug into her side and she fought to remain standing, to keep the blade where it was so it could do what it needed. Dante croaked a strange noise, his form starting to surrender to convulsions. He seemed to be fighting the madness again. She could see his aura suddenly bursting up and to the sides, flickering violently.

His hands, large demonic paws with razor-sharp talons, closed around her neck but she did not relent. She just dug the blade deeper into his chest, getting another scream out of him. He snarled in her face, red eyes glaring fiercely and his tongue lolled out of his mouth in a hungry grimace of anger at his inability to move. She was starting to suffocate.

“Dante! _Dante!!_ ” she choked while her neck ached. “Listen to me! I know it hurts, but you have to stop,” she said, struggling to keep him from forcing her to the ground.

He grunted vaguely at her and his eyes seemed to lose focus.

“Fight it, you idiot!” she snapped. “Come on, I’m giving you a way out. You’re stronger than this!”

They wrestled for control for a moment, Tess finding him weakening enough for her to be able to hold her own. The blade of the knife now felt white-hot under the wooden handle but she didn’t dare let go of it. She felt something happening and her instincts told her it was absolutely necessary to keep her hand on the knife.

“Come _on,_ dammit! _”_ she barked, feeling his claws rake her neck. “You can’t call it…quits on me like that! I need you… back. You promised to help… me with this… remember?”

He uttered a confused growl and she saw the demonic hide along his chest crack further and further. Her eyes were watering from both pain and the sight of him torn apart by his struggle. She _thought_ that more red was starting to suffuse in his aura but was that really enough?

“You can’t… let yourself… be controlled like this! I’m not… gonna let you. You’re always... fighting, right?” she choked. “So _fight_ , damn you! Get rid of it. You are… what you are. Half-demon… and half-human. And I need… all of you back.”

She was now getting dizzy from his grip and he snarled, blinking hard. She didn’t do anything to stop him.

“Whatever happens… I forgive you.”

Suddenly she shoved against him and pulled the blade back, out of him. Dante whimpered in response and she glanced down to see the knife covered in blood and a vile, dark, stringy substance that seemed to resist leaving him. The wound remained open and even made a nasty, squishy sound before some blood spurted out, followed by a gush of the same vile black substance. It spattered all over her shoes and the ground and it _hissed_ wherever it touched, evaporating immediately with a foul shadow of its presence that faded quickly.

Dante pushed her away violently with an angry, hurt howl and started to convulse. His chest kept leaking blood and that nasty stuff as his hide began to crack and even crumble, revealing flesh. His aura trashed about like a flapping bird, the gray black stuff draining out of it like the ooze in his chest. Power crackled all over him angrily, his human form flickering into being momentarily. His demonic howls turned to human screams of pain as he flailed about, now grasping at his head, now tearing at his own body.

Tess held onto the knife, the black foul liquid sizzling quietly on the hot metal and sliding off it rapidly, as if repelled by the blade. She was terrified she might’ve actually injured him badly. He jerked his head from side to side violently and tore away at his own face, peeling off chunks of the dark hide. It cracked and crumbled away like dust. He staggered about drunkenly and Tess could only follow him in hesitation, too scared to get too close but also unwilling to just stand and watch.

He shivered violently, more black liquid spurting out of him and crumbled to the floor. Tess could bear it no longer and put the knife away to stoop over him. He reached out and grabbed her arm, his hand very nearly normal again. All she could do was wait and then grunted as he tried to stand and she helped him stay upright. She put his arm over her shoulders as he quivered from head to toe. The whole ordeal lasted for just over a minute and he was clearly exhausted when it was finally over. He stood on his own two, very shaky feet.

Dante’s eyes were closed and he was breathed heavily, trying to suppress a fading pain evident in his knitted brow and slack jaw. He finally opened his eyes again, revealing normal pale blue hues and breathed out, staring at her. His aura was still shriveled and twitched painfully but all the sickly gray black was gone.

“Hey Twig,” he said weakly with a stiff smile. “Looks like you… saved my ass again.”

He blinked a few times and saw Tess crying and laughing at the same time. She hugged him tightly, pressing her face into his shoulder. She choked out a weird noise, like a sob and a giggle.

“You fucking idiot,” she stammered. “You scared the shit out of me. I knew you could shake it off, you just had to scare a decade off me first. I thought you were a goner. I thought it wouldn’t work.”

All Dante would do was hug her back one armed, the other reaching out for support to a nearby wall. Coming out of that ordeal felt like being pulled out of the lake all over again; just worse and at the same time, a much greater relief. He shivered to realize that he had very little recollection of what he’d been doing since that freak grabbed him by the face, just vague impressions and the smell of the place around him. He felt a vague but overwhelming sense of shame and guilt – he knew he’d scared her, he knew in his gut that he’d outright attacked her with intentions that he didn’t even want to contemplate now. His mind had been on fire and his chest had ached with the swelling of rage.

Above all he’d felt this terrifying, vague sense of being absent from his own mind, allowing something else, buried deep in him to grab the wheel. And it had freaked out, without him to keep one hand on the reins. He hadn't quite realized just how _bad_ it all was until it was gone. The sensation of being here, now, in control of his faculties was indeed the sweetest relief he’d ever experienced.

Shame and guilt were quickly ousted by righteous anger at Chax’s doing, joined rapidly by an intense desire for revenge – a fact that even his demonic instincts seconded with a satisfied bristle.

“I’m sorry, Tess,” he muttered in her ear. “Didn’t think I’d ever lose it that badly. Now we’re gonna make that bastard pay.”

He let go of her and they quickly got their bearings again, ready for anything. Dante saw Chax and a massive creature he vaguely remembered fighting it out in the far side of the hall with an overwhelming din of bestial noises. The thunder of colliding bodies that shook the ground was a good indication of how brutal that fighting had gotten. Dante narrowed his eyes and suddenly it dawned upon him that that was Roy.

“Whoa, the old man’s really goin’ at it – but he’s not looking too good,” he muttered.

“It’s Roy alright – his real name is Abraxas,” Tess said. “We have to get Chax’s attention, Abraxas has been battered so much today he can’t last.”

Suddenly Chax let out a loud, frustrated roar and kicked Abraxas off him, slamming both tails against the djinn and sending him tumbling backwards into the wall of the hall, shaking it hard. The leonine djinn lay there, dazed, pained grunts rumbling from its chest. Chax hesitated only for a moment between finishing the djinn off and instead lunged right for the teenagers with an indignant snarl.

 _“YOU!”_ he roared. “How dare you deny my sovereign right?!”

They ducked out of the way as the demon skidded along the polished marble after missing them. Dante kept Tess behind him as the demon turned and glared at them with a roar of indignant fury. Dante stared the demon down as its roar extinguished itself.

“Dude. Two words: _Tic-Tac_ ,” he said, shrugging.

He heard Tess sniggering behind him and grinned. He knew it was hopeless to try and ask her to stay out of the fight, so he didn’t even bother. She actually flicked her arm quickly and a blast of fire rattled the ceiling, breaking off a chunk of stone and sending it hurtling to the ground as Chax advanced so that it nailed him on the head with a loud crack, snapping a piece of his forehead horn clean off.

“Go!” she told Dante, pushing him towards Rebellion while she dashed for one of his handguns.

He darted across the floor to his trusty Rebellion. He dropped to a slide on his knees, snatching Rebellion and simultaneously dodging the wild swing of one of Chax’s tails as the demon shook himself violently to recover from the rock dropped on his head. Dante slid to a stop and jumped up, twirling his sword with confidence and ready for Chax who dove right at him.

As the demon approached, power crackled around it and spun into four ghostly swords that shimmered like glowing smoke that levitated beside him in two pairs. Two of them hurtled right at Dante who charged forth, leaped into the air and swung Rebellion hard. He dodged the homing blades and struck the demon in the chest and head with a rising blow that staggered it. 

Tess dove at Ivory, just as a few surprisingly surviving wretches lunged at her from the side. She dodged around one who flopped to the floor as another pushed past it. She turned and unceremoniously kicked it right in the eyeball peeled on its chest. It stunned the beast enough for her to incapacitate it with a lash of fire that pushed it back. She ducked under the swinging arm of a demon and slid between the legs of a third right as the one she’d avoided swung a hatchet. The demon just succeeded in slicing the other demon’s head in two and Tess knocked all of them off their feet with a powerful eruption of flame as soon as she was clear of them. She grabbed the heavy gun and at the same time drew her knife and with a vicious swing drove the blade into the eye of a misshapen demon. The blade went straight in like butter, as if it knew full well how to cut into demons.

Tess kicked her victim back and off her blade with a heel to the sternum and then torched it to a crisp with flame before calling to Dante.

“Dante!” she shouted and threw the gun in his direction with an easy toss.

Dante evaded another homing blade and turned at her call… but a split-second too late. Ivory twirled through the air and right past the hand he held out to catch it in and instead, hit him straight in the face with a thunk. Tess grimaced as he reeled from it and gave her a definite _“What the hell was that!?”_ look before snatching the gun.    

He turned quickly as Chax came in for him again. He wound his arm back and then deflected another pair of those floating gray swords. Dante then rushed him and Chax let a high-pitched growl as Rebellion sliced into his lower torso, the force of the blow staggering the demon. He recovered and swiped at Dante with his claws, which the boy avoided and then peppered Dante with another volley of swords and attempted to turn his attention to Tess who was getting rid of the last few wretches with fire and her knife.

The next second a bullet from Dante’s gun hit him in the head, straight in at the base of his horn. Chax's head whipped back with a cracking sound and when the demon brought his head down again, the bullet had lodged into the horn, splitting it some ways up. Foul blood trickled down the demon’s face from the split base and Chax breathed harshly for a moment, his narrow nostrils flaring angrily as his crazy grin widened to expose his fangs.

“Ah, ah, ah! I’m your dance partner, Crazy!” Dante said with a malevolent smile.

A soft rumble made him glance back across the hall. Some of the remaining twisted demons – how many _were_ there?! – were tentatively surrounding Abraxas’ dazed form. The leonine djinn suddenly grunted and stirred, rising to its feet with a growl. He glared down at the insignificant demons and then swatted them aside with its paw, sending many of them flying in chunks as his massive claws rend them to pieces. The djinn motioned to charge forth and join the fray but he stumbled and in the end was forced to sit, breathing hard. 

“Take a seat, old man, I got this! Ugly here and I got some unfinished business!” Dante shouted.

“You’re welcome for softening him up!” Abraxas coughed back. “Mind yourself!”

Dante chuckled, dodging another swing by the demon’s hand and easily snapped up Ebony from the floor, tipping it over his foot and kicking it off the ground to snatch it effortlessly. With both guns in hand, he was happy to point both at the demon and open fire as fast as his fingers could click off shots. Chax snarled and whipped the shots aside with his wretched wings.

“You think you’re safe just because you’ve got your senses, brat?” he laughed. “Nobody will leave this place alive, let alone _you_!”

The demon lunged forth, swinging his arm to intercept the half-demon’s charge. Dante’s eyes glowed red as he approached the beast and suddenly fooled the demon with a feint to the left when instead he homed right in for the demon’s neck. Chax rallied at the last second so his blow was half as effective. The blade passed right by Chax’s head but he was struck by the blade on the backstroke and the demon backed away in a hurry, spitting out a tooth. Dante growled at himself for the clumsy blow.  

“Tess, look out!” Abraxas snarled suddenly and surged forth.

His jaws closed around the arm of a particularly large wretch who seemed to manifest straight from the shadows around the hall. The djinn snarled and tossed it aside with a grunt, the body slamming into the wall with a horrible crack.

Tess was finally clear of the last small demons and ready to assist Dante. She took a quick moment to lock eyes with Abraxas and gesture to him to sit tight. Then she blew one of Chax’s floating swords out of the air with a blast of fire.

Dante was grateful the djinn could watch their backs and keep any small-fry distractions away from them. Although he was battered and bleeding from cuts and gashes on his body, he seemed to be in no danger and set about any shambling demons like a cat among mice.

“Watch it, Twig!” he snapped when Chax almost turned to attack her again, before Dante shot at him.

Tess attacked Chax with a ball of fire to the back. “Quit worrying about me, I’m a big girl! Pay attention to _him_ , he’s the one who’s gonna eat our skins if we fuck up!”

Dante chuckled at her attitude and swatted away two more phantom swords.

“Foolish children!” Chax growled, as the swords all returned to him. “Why must you make things so irritatingly complicated?!” he went on, trudging towards Dante again and hurling all four of his floating swords at him.

Chax appeared to be getting angrier as the swords crackled with energy and moved fast. Dante was forced to do a few rapid dodges but although two of the swords missed their mark, the other two got him with such force that his sword went flying out of his hand. The large blades pierced his chest and shoulder and got a pained grunt out of him. They hurt, the power coursing through them burning like acid and his body actually went numb from the shock, dropping him to a knee. He glared at Chax from under his tussled hair, the red gleam of his eyes never changing. 

Tess attempted to intercept Chax and give Dante a chance to bounce back but Chax got in the way, stomping towards Dante. He swung his arm in an attempt to grab her but she yelped and threw herself back. He took advantage of the opening and swung his tails at her. The sharp spurs on them grazed her arms but the scaly limbs slammed into her waist, knocking her off her feet and sending her straight to the floor on her back, sliding away a few feet from the momentum. She lay there dazed, groaning.

Chax towered over Dante, looking down at the boy from his empty, seeping eye-sockets and his mad grin twisted into an angry snarl.

“Stupid kid. If you'd just back off and let me have my way, I could’ve given you a good life. Humanity is _dead_ for you, Dante. You were born a demon and that’s all you can ever hope to be. No matter what you do for them, what sacrifices you make – they will never see you as anything better than a devil, _a monster_. You’re just _pretending_ , kid,” he snarled.

He knocked Dante down with a powerful lash of his tail. Dante let out a deep bellow as the wind was forced from his lungs. He landed on his back, gasping for air. The swords were still stuck in him, the acidic power numbing him even as he resisted it. He tried to elbow away on his back, but the demon dropped his foot over the boy's chest, pushing his weight down on him. Dante groaned and Chax grabbed hold of both swords and yanked them out, getting shouts of pain from Dante. Chax allowed the swords to hover beside him with the others and bent over the teenager. He tapped the boy’s chest with a claw, as if probing for the best place to land a finishing blow.

“You may _look_ like a human, but you're only deluding yourself,” he said leisurely. “If you'd just been honest with yourself, you would have—“

The great demon suddenly seemed to just stare. He hesitated. His wings furled against his back uneasily and his tails stilled. He reared his head back a little bit. Dante glared back with clenched teeth, before his look span around trying to find a way out of this mess.

“What is this?” Chax muttered, sounding surprised. He inhaled through the nose, sniffing tentatively. He grimaced with a snarl. “It can't be--?”

Chax dipped his head low and brought his monstrous hand to Dante's face, his index finger pointing at Dante's cheekbone. On its way through his shoulder, one of the phantom swords had grazed his cheek, cutting a small wound there and leaving a wet stain of blood. Chax poked it with his talon. Dante grit his teeth tightly but still howled in pain at the claw digging into his face and his legs kicked spontaneously, never quite hitting a mark.

Chax pulled his claw out, covered in blood. The teenager could see his sword lying just a few inches away but still painfully out of reach. It was his only ticket out as Chax had stopped every attempt to attack him, puzzling over his discovery. Dante was all too aware what might be coming next. He glanced around to see Tess coming round form her daze, propping herself up on her elbow while pressing her side with her free hand; her look said that she too was anticipating the same thing. Heck, even Abraxas had revived enough to stare intensely.

The demon brought the blood to his face, sniffed it and licked it off his claw. He froze for a moment, seeming surprised—shocked, even. He then let an appalled scream and pulled off Dante, literally leaping back as if the half-demon were bare electric wire.

“IT CAN'T BE!” he howled, staring at Dante warily and shrugging his wings angrily. “SPARDA?! IMPOSSIBLE! This can't be!! A half-breed?!”

Dante got the impression that Chax’s initial reaction was one of terror… and then anger at that terror. The demon raged, tails whipping against the floor so hard they left cracks where they struck.

“The filthy traitor had a son?! WITH A HUMAN?!” he roared.

Chax brought his hands to his head, throwing it back and broke into a hysteric laugh, half-amused, half-despondent.

“IT’S TRUE, DAMN IT! OH SWEET UNDERWORLD, THE _SHAME_! The Dark Knight, the human-lover—that blasted traitor Sparda fathered a bastard—with a human!” He laughed, but there was still that edge of fear in his laugh. “SPARDA'S LEGACY OF DISGRACE LIVES! In a fucking mutt!”

Dante pushed himself to his elbow at last, feeling the numbness leaving him and smirked. For once, he didn’t mind at all a demon’s hysterics at discovering his ancestry.

 _“For once, I owe ya, old man,”_ Dante thought as he staggered to his feet again.

The demon began recovering from his hysterics as Dante drew Ebony and shot for Chax’s horn once more. The bullet struck with a loud crack, getting a snarl from the demon and his attention. With the cat out of the bag, Dante felt strangely at ease. He grinned cheekily at his opponent.

“Hey, ‘nough talk about my old man! Like I said, _I’m_ your dance partner, Crazypants, and you can’t screw with my head anymore,” he said, spreading his arms. “So what if I’m not human? This is still their world and the likes of you ain’t welcome here. I’m pretty sick of you demons marching around like you own the place, so I’m gonna put an end to it. And the end starts—“

He scooched the tip of his foot under his sword and kicked it up into his waiting hand, then spun it expertly, ready.

“With you son of a bitch.”

He _hurled_ his sword ahead like a spear; it twirled edge over edge once and cleaved a path through Chax’s abdomen, very nearly going right through him. The force staggered the demon and before he even stood straight again, he seized the blade with a growl and yanked it out of his chest. However, before the gaping hole in the demon’s chest could close, a torrent of fire collided with his back, making the blood and the flesh sizzle, stopping it from regenerating all the way.

Chax howled in pain, throwing the sword away from him and glared over his shoulder at the witch, who was now standing behind him, fully recovered and already generating another lash of flames. Her green eyes were hard as steel.

“This is payback, you freak. You’re getting nothing out of me,” she said with an angry smirk. “I’ll make you regret crawling out of your seal.”

Dante caught his sword with a relatively carefree jump and just grinned at Tess’ attitude. It was showdown time, do or die. And that’s exactly how Dante liked it.

When he lunged at the demon again, he felt that familiar tug at the back of his mind again. He thought to suppress it momentarily, given his recent horrible experience of letting his demon side grab the wheel but he sensed that this time it was all his own, all him. He felt the change sweep over him, his hands swelling as his nails grew into claws and his teeth turned sharp. His aura surged into view, almost liquid in its viciousness, flowing in streaks over him. His eyes flashed red against black and he felt a snarl rumbling in his throat. He felt strength and speed surging in him and he easily dodged over Chax’s massive tails swinging for him.

“Tess, gimmie some light!” he shouted.

It seemed his request was anticipated because he could already hear the scorching words dancing in the air. The white hot blazes travelled along the floor like snakes, diving into his aura with a nearly sensual caress, giving it the same white hot sheen for a moment before Rebellion ignited with the mystical flame. Chax snarled at the display but then had to duck to avoid one of his screaming minions that came flying overhead to crash into the wall behind them.

“Keep calling forth minions, demon!” Abraxas scoffed. “See if I care! They’re mice to me!”

Dante took the opening Abraxas gave him and closed in, sword poised to strike. Chax, hunched over with his craggy wings pulled against his back, flailed both tails, sending them straight down on the boy. The bone spurs collided right with the blade and knocked it aside, as the demon flicked his wrist to send all four swords at Dante.

“Now you’re finally a little more of an _actual_ challenge, son of Sparda—AARRRRRGH!”

He arched his back with a screech as a searing wave of flames licked at his hide, scorching part of the ragged membrane of a wing clean off his limb with a foul stench.

“You don’t have the right to mention the name, dipshit!” Tess shouted at him as she circled away from his flailing tails. “You’re better off worrying about whoever is about to take you down!”

Dante had disentangled Rebellion from the bone spurs before the demon swung his tails at the witch in rage but one of the swords had the time to nail him before he dodged the rest. He grunted in pain as it ran through his chest and almost knocked him to a knee. Chax attempted to exploit that opening but Tess was there to keep him distracted with a savage attack of flames right to his face. It seemed to hit his eyesockets in particular because he reeled back with a tremendous roar of pain.

Even as he spat a glob of blood, Dante smirked a bit, watching her command her flames, determined and fierce. She looked downright… beautiful, actually and he chuckled at himself for his thoughts at a time like this! He grabbed the phantom sword with a hand, ignoring the almost acidic pain of the contact and yanked it out.

“It’ll take more than that to stop me,” he muttered.

He secured Rebellion to his back, the flames dimming to a lazy blue that flowed over the blade, and drew his guns. He twirled them once, then took aim as power crackled over his arms, joined by sparks of flame. He fired a couple of rounds before the guns ignited and the shots became charged with powerful, fiery red blasts. Each shot stunned Chax a little and all together they sent the demon reeling, retreating from the gunfire. He growled in rage and headed straight for Tess, overcome by fury. The swords flung themselves after him, darting ahead towards her.

“You little BITCH!” the demon snarled. “I’LL TAKE YOUR EYES IF I HAVE TO RIP THEM FROM YOUR SKULL!”

Dante ran after him in an attempt to intercept him, and Tess braced herself and moved. She seemed cornered against the wall but she was not the trapped mouse she appeared. One of the swords crashed into the wall just behind her, nearly shaving off the ends of her hair as she ducked and ran along the wall. Another pierced the stone wall in her wake as she dodged it with a graceful twirl. The next two blades hurtled ahead of her to cut her off and she was almost grazing the wall as Chax closed in. She seemed to be running straight into the corner and yet…

Tess kicked off the ground and then the wall, allowing both swords to impale themselves into the all beneath her. Chax’s arm reached out to snatch her but she used the swords as a footing to gracefully leap over the swing and kicked off the wall once more to vault clean over him. Chax turned in a hurry to try and seize her but only succeeded in skidding along the polished marble and crash into the wall with a loud thud. Tess turned in mid-air and landed in a crouching roll that let her stand up again remarkably fast.

She spun on her heels, facing Chax with an angry smile and swung her arm in a commanding gesture, giving rise to a blast of flame from below that ignited into a pillar of fire and torched the demon pretty badly. Dante barked an amused laugh, watching her give Chax a run for his money with that look of perfect contempt.

 _“Where does she keep pulling these tricks out of?”_ he thought with a wistful smile.

He then shot a few powered rounds right at Chax, forcing the demon to duck low to avoid the blurry red projectiles.

“Hey! Spike! C’mere, boy!” Dante mocked. “Leave the girlie alone, we’re not done yet!” he said, mockingly calling him over like a dog with some sharp claps.

He grinned wider to hear Tess’ quiet chuckle.

Chax tore away from the wall, summoning the swords back to him. He said nothing, just snarled, his arms with crackling with power. The swords trembled and hurtled forth again, this time in a random pattern of constant motion, strafing and turning unpredictably, with a speed that almost fooled one into believing there were more than four of them. And Chax was easily rushing for them, trying to exploit the limitation of mobility this onslaught intended.

Dante cussed quietly. It looked like the demon was getting a little desperate. He rushed to Tess and drew Rebellion, whose dormant flame ignited brightly again. He quickly spun to deflect one of the swords out of his way – despite their speed, everything seemed to slow down for him, to the point where he barely registered the phantom sword bouncing back. He grabbed Tess by the waist in one arm, pulled her against him and turned, to knock back another phantom blade.

With the blades whizzing around them maddeningly and Chax approaching fast, they had to improvise. What they ended up doing was a sort of mad dance. With an incredible feat of speed and precision, Dante began to deflect the repetitive passes of the phantom blades, turning round and round to catch them all, moving back all the while. Tess moved right with him, attacking Chax with blasts of fire to stall him. The clash of the blades came fast, like the rapid strokes of a butcher’s knife being sharpened, mixed with the roar of fire.

They had to constantly move together to keep their targets in sight in a deadly waltz. Dante was relieved that Tess was more than capable of keeping up with him.

Chax roared in anger as another blast pushed him back. The phantom swords never stopped, spinning back around after being knocked away, always going right for them in a repetitive, relentless assault from almost every conceivable angle.  

It came to an end when one of the phantom blades collided directly with the flaming Rebellion. A large part of the demonic blade broke off from the force of the impact and the two pieces clattered on the ground before evaporating into mist. Chax snarled impotently and the remaining three blades returned to him as the demon stood there, breathing in deep, raspy gulps of air with something almost like weariness.

The teens stopped as well, Dante standing between Chax and Tess and he heard her breathing just as hard behind him.

“He’s gettin’ tuckered out,” Dante muttered.

“Makes sense… he’s still bound by the seal and feeding on this place hasn’t really... sated his needs,” Tess panted. “He must be so frustrated.”

“Hmph,” Dante grunted. “Nice dancing, by the way.”

She scoffed. “What is this, a date?”

He chuckled back and Chax growled deeply. “Ooh, I think we made him mad,” Dante said. “What’s up, Crazypants, gettin’ pissed ya can’t scare us? Seems you’re all big talk.”    

Chax seemed to grow weary of their lackadaisical impudence. He flung one of the three remaining swords at them, more out of a sense of rage than a tactical choice. Almost instinctively, Dante whipped out Ebony and took aim, power crackling and sparking along his arm as it flowed through him. By the time the charged shot fired off, the tip of the sword was inches from the muzzle of the gun. The bullet struck the sword’s tip with a loud crack, flipping the sword over and back and his second shot struck it in the pommel, propelling it back to Chax.

The demon snarled at the display; as the blade hurtled towards him, he snatched the two swords out of the air beside him and swung with both, shattering the sword aimed for him. The broken pieces fell away into nothing.

“Arrogant striplings,” he grunted.

Something seemed to snap in the witch because Tess interrupted his intended assault with bursts of fire, so condensed they were nearly solid. She moved with purpose, almost dancing; every single twist and movement caused the fire to move differently with flawless precision, circling Chax like predators. They collided with the demon’s body with enough force to force him to take a few steps back and despite his efforts there was no way to stop them. The bolts came in faster and faster, until it looked as though they simply generated out of the air ad infinitum. The demon snarled at the seared hide and smell of burning flesh, his already ragged wings now nothing but tatters flapping and bleeding. Knowing that Tess’ impressive assault would come to a stop due to the witch folding to exhaustion, Dante took advantage. He was damn proud of her too, pulling it off with that much style.

He rushed at the demon. “Ya see, Crazypants? You play with fire, you get burned!” he said with a savage grin.

Chax was too busy trying to deal with Tess’ barrage to catch him. The demon was covered in hideous burns from head to toe, snarling as a final blast staggered his form and he lurched at the hunter with a sword in each hand. He crossed his arms and then swung outwards furiously, forcing Dante to parry. Demon and demon-hunter now engaged in a vicious, rapid exchange of blows, each trying to break the other’s defense.

Tess had to put a stop to her fiery assault, breathing hard from the effort and feeling drained. She almost had to press her hands on her knees to stay standing when Abraxas’ shout got her attention.

The djinn, standing in the middle of the hall and surrounded by the remains of the twisted demons, looked exhausted. His leonine jaws hunk slack as he panted but he stared fixedly at the far back wall. Tess glanced at it, at the remains of the mural and studied the seal. The crack run from the circumference towards the center and as she watched, it inched closer. She cussed quietly.

“Dante!” she cried out. “We’re running out of time! We’re taking him down, _now!_ Before his bonds completely vanish!”

She really, _really_ did not want to find out whether she could re-establish a seal that evidently had taken a full coven of witches to successfully place.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it!” Dante called back, parrying a strike.

He would have liked to toy with this big bastard some more now that he was feeling confident, but he didn’t want to give the demon another opportunity to corrupt him. He let Chax rush him again and stood firm. The moment the demon attacked, Dante deflected the blow and in the same fluid motion, thrust his sword through the demon’s gut. He pushed forward, taking advantage of Chax’s own momentum and _lifted._

With nearly no effort, Dante launched the demon over his head and then flung him into the wall with a loud thud before drawing his guns, arms crackling viciously and firing a barrage of charged shots at the demon. The last two phantom swords shattered and the great demon slumped against the wall, snarling impotently. He proved to be far from tireless, as evidenced by his heavy breathing and the fact his injuries healed no more. Large spatters of foul blood painted the floor under him and he couldn’t even lift his tattered and broken wings. With nothing more to feed on, with his minions all dead and Dante free of his influence, the demon was at his limits.

“What a humiliation,” he grunted. “Sparda’s son and a miserable little witch. Just a bit more and I would’ve been free.”

Dante scowled. “Should’ve thought of that before messing with us.”

Chax’s head drooped and a fresh stream of blood leaked from his empty eye sockets. He gurgled his words, foaming like a furious dog. His sinister grin returned, tinged with misery.

“You really think you’ve triumphed, boy,” he spat. “I’ll still have the last laugh. You’ll succumb to your blood sooner or later. You got a taste of it now and I _know you liked it._ I was in there, after all. When you really awaken… haha… you’ll know you’ll want more of the same, deep down. That’s what you are. _”_

Dante clenched his teeth quietly, and heard the sharp creak of his fangs grinding together. “Shut up,” he snarled. “Shut up—“

Tess grabbed him by the shoulder and squeezed gently, staring the demon down. “Don’t listen—“

The demon tried to stand but only succeeded in slumping further. “And you—stupid girl. I know what you’re doing. You think you’re so noble. But it’s going to be for nothing. Run all you like, little girl, others _will_ find you. They’ll know. They’ll want your sight and your blood to themselves. You’ll never rest!!” he laughed and the voice cracked into a hysteric wheeze.

“I said _shut up!”_ Dante growled and drawing his gun shot the demon in the face. He shrugged Tess’ hand off his shoulder and let himself lose his temper; he _needed_ it. “ _You_ did that to me and it didn’t work, did it?!”

The demon just chuckled hoarsely. “Your little witch had to save you,” it mocked, sing-song.

Dante could contain himself no longer and rushed Chax, swinging Rebellion. The flame trailed freely, bright as a star. “ _Fine!_ Then I’ll have her stab me again if I lose it!”

Chax snarled when he saw the incoming attack and sprang at the boy at the same time, hand outstretched with his dark talons at the fore, snarling and his tails whipping angrily in his wake. The contact was hard; Dante could barely concede that the angry war cry had come out of his chest. It was defiance in the face of the reality Chax had thrown in his face. Chax’s snarl was drowned in a fit of hysterical laughter. His talons cut the air with an ominous whistle but missed as Dante jumped expertly over the blow and swung the sword. The blade found home in the demon’s neck, right where it met the shoulder. It cut deep, crunching bone and tearing flesh with the awful sizzling of burning hide. Chax screamed but the blade kept going. The fire burned.

The demon’s chest was nearly bisected and one of his wings was ripped off clean from the demon who collapsed, a fountain of befouled blood gushing from the wound. He tried to claw forward, reaching in vain for more purchase, more time, more power. He looked up at the seal. The crack had stopped, right before it reached the centre. He rolled his head to the side, glaring at Tess, just out of his reach. She stood unafraid, staring back. Even with empty eye-sockets, he looked full of envy and frustration.

“Ah… all these centuries,” he lamented. “…All this patience. And I fail.” 

Tess stared him down with an icy gaze, but her mind was racing. _‘You’ll never rest’._ It preyed on her mind. 

“Tough luck, you bastard,” she said coldly.

She even smiled, cruelly, fit for a witch. She tried to tell herself she wouldn’t cry. But she felt the hot fire of revenge sit in the pit of her stomach and her eyes stung. _“For Magda,”_ she thought. _“For Roy, for Dante, mom, dad, me – every witch you monsters have ever torn apart.”_  

Dante trudged over, breathing hard and grappling with his self-control. He was victorious. He knew it, he’d _won_. And this demon acknowledged it, as begrudgingly as he did. Dante relished the feeling, the sense of dominance, of triumph over an enemy that had tested him and proven too little a threat, it was exhilarating and natural—

...natural for demons.

“You wanna finish him off, Twig?” he asked through grit teeth. “He put you through hell.”

He mumbled, unwilling to let her see how big his fangs felt under his lips. It was fairly pointless, though. His eyes were all black and red and his hands… they had grown savage and paw-like with large claws.

Tess wasn’t looking at him, she stared at Chax, as if afraid he might get up again. Then she glanced up, right at Dante and he nearly took a step backwards. Not just because she saw all of him at last, it was _how_ she looked at him. When had her gaze become so penetrating? So fearless? He couldn’t read her anymore; he’d never again read her clearly and her thoughts would remain as evasive as her smiles.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. He hurt you. More than he hurt me. This is _your_ victory. Take it.”

Dante blinked. And the, he smiled. Wide, he wasn’t afraid to let her see his demon fangs now, pushing so hard out of his gums that they might crack and bleed at any moment. The adrenaline pumping through him made him feel confident. He was aware, vaguely, that he must have looked deeply unsettling, if not terrifying, at that moment, but she didn’t look afraid at all.

“We’ll just say this is for you, Twig,” he said quietly.

He tightened his grip on his sword, approaching the fallen demon who turned his head to look up at him and started to cackle quietly. Dante swung Rebellion hard. The sword went clean through the great demon’s neck with a crunch and carved a deep dent into the stone floor with a loud crack.

“So long…” Dante muttered.  

The demon’s hysterical laugh finally ended when his head rolled off with a splat, bouncing on the floor once before stopping, mouth fixed open in a hideous, mocking grin. Blood gushed from the severed neck as the body writhed and tensed like a decapitated lizard, the tails flailing wildly for a moment before they grew still.

Just like that, the nearly-rejuvenated Mad God was dead and Dante felt like bursting into a laugh of triumph, maybe even whooping, but he didn’t. That would’ve been… what a demon would do. Gloat.  Beat their chest. He didn’t feel like doing either, even as the dark little voice in the back of his head said so. The fire burning in Rebellion’s core dimmed and went out quietly so he just secured the sword to his back without a word. A weight left his shoulders as he did so.


	22. Goodbye and Good Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the story draws to a close.

Dante drew a deep breath. He could already feel his demonic characteristics starting to fade; his aura settled at last and then sank away to all but Tess. His nails itched and ached as they started to recede and when he glanced down at his hand he saw a disturbing bruised sort of veining fade from his skin. His gums hurt. It took him a little longer than he wanted to meet her gaze, just to find that she was crossing the distance between them. She looked battered, he could already tell where she’d be bruised all over and her step had a slight limp to it. Her cut hand was oozing a bit. He thought she might embrace him but she stopped right before that.

“Are you okay, Twig?”

“Dante, are you alright?”

They spoke almost at once and it just made them both hush up suddenly and look at each other with awkward smiles.

“You good?” he asked, studying her.

Tess smiled tiredly and even chuckled a little. “Aw… you’re worried about me,” she teased. “I guess that means _you love me_?”

Well, there went all of his intentions to play it cool. Just, gone out the window like a thief in the night. His eyebrows crept up his forehead and for once more in his life – it had become something of a recurring theme since he’d met her – he found himself at a loss for immediate words. It occurred to him that his slack jaw and still visible fangs probably made him look dumb. He glanced to the side awkwardly, fishing for a witty retort of some kind but came up empty. He scratched the back of his neck.

“You can’t throw my jokes at me, Twig,” he mumbled.

She grinned. “Ooh, so you can dish it out but you can’t take it?” she chuckled.

“Seriously, you’re gonna give me shit after seeing me kill a bigass demon like that?” he protested.

She _stuck her tongue out_ at him a little _._ “I’ll always give you shit if it’s warranted.”

In spite of himself, he smiled and even chuckled. So fearless, so comfortable around him, even in the face of all this. He then squinted at her and rubbed his neck.

“Anyway…” he grumbled. “This… this better be the last demon nutcase that comes for you in a while because if I have to save you again, it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

“Wow, you _are_ talking cute,” Tess chuckled. “You better mind your demon side, mister, or I’m stabbing you again if you lose it.”

The best part was that they both _meant it,_ for pity’s sake. He wanted to zing her or even… jokingly demand a kiss for his troubles but Roy had to interrupt them. He climbed over to the higher flooring with a grunt, in his good ol’ human form. He looked awful, worse than before. He looked thinner and older somehow and his eye was bandaged over. Still, there was something very regal and dignified about him, even now.

Tess rushed to meet him and gave him a warm hug, disregarding the blood and grime covering him.

“Hey, old man!” Dante grinned. “Had to come rushing to the rescue, huh? You alright?”

Roy chuckled tiredly and patted Dante’s shoulder. “I wish you’d stop calling me old, brat but let’s drop that for now. I’m glad you’re both alright. You had me worried for a moment.”

He studied Chax’s carcass for a long moment then actually patted both their heads. “I’m very proud of you both.”

Dante did nothing to disguise his cheesy grin and Tess looked away with a rosy face. He’d honestly grown to love Roy’s quiet but heartfelt praise.

“We really should leave, if you’re both alright,” he then said more seriously. “This is no place to dawdle in.”

Dante shrugged and smirked. “You’re getting soft on me, old man.”

“Don’t mistake my concern for complete forgiveness, boy,” Roy grunted. “There’s plenty I want to give you a thrashing for but now is not the time,” he added.

Dante scoffed at that, but he freely admitted that even he wanted to get out of there. Dozens upon dozens of dead demons were strewn about and given that most had spawned from human flesh, it was unlikely they’d vanish soon. The place reeked of blood, body parts and the rank odour of death – Dante included.

He was frankly a little amazed they had come out of that fray relatively unharmed. He felt sore already and he couldn’t imagine how tired Tess might be. Heck, she’d probably want to spend all of tomorrow sleeping. Before he let his thoughts wander to places they had no business being, he flexed his neck gently.

“So… how _do_ we get outta here, old man?” he asked.

Roy made a sour face and squinted at him. “If you call me old one more time, I'll _kick_ your sad half-demon arse out of here,” he grumbled.

Dante just grinned and Tess stifled a laugh as Roy trudged past them towards the opening he’d barrelled through earlier. “At any rate… with Chax’s death the spatial mess he’d made of this place’s dimensions should have collapsed back into relative normalcy. I made a bit of a mess myself coming in but it ought to be easily to find our way out.”

Dante resisted the urge to grab Tess’ hand as they followed him. But… it should probably wait when they were out of this wreck and safe. He’d have all the time in the world to mess with her. They clambered over the debris littering the opening to see the bottom of a service stairwell that Dante was fairly sure they’d actually used when they came in. It looked much broader now than he remembered and he was fairly sure that it hadn’t had so few floors. Roy actually looked a bit sluggish as they started to ascend and the pair looked at him with matching expressions of concern.

“I’m tired, what did you expect?” he dismissed them. “I’ve been through the tumble                -dryer the last two days and I just had to wrestle with a greater demon who almost gutted me. Of course I’m tired.”

Dante smiled sheepishly and realized it wasn’t just Roy. He was starting to feel exhausted from his latest indulgence in his demonic side. He felt sore. He wanted to sleep so badly.

Navigating the actual staircase wasn’t hard as it was intact and mostly clear of debris and detritus. It was nice and quiet too now, with the prevailing sounds being soft creaks of a settling building, dripping water or the rustle of falling dust. Roy led the way up at a fairly decent pace, despite limping a little bit and every other floor he paused to take a deeper breath before carrying on with the kids in tow.

Just when Dante honestly thought that they’d get out of this whole situation quietly, a brief but noticeable tremor shook the building; some dust crumbled down from the ceiling and the old metal railings rattled. They all stopped and Roy looked up, rather worried, while Tess looked down and behind them nervously. Dante grew tense but didn’t dare to look back. Suddenly the idea of the building coming down on them as a result of Chax’s messing around with it crossed his mind and he gulped.

“Keep moving,” he muttered, staring right at Roy.

He gently nudged Tess on past Roy, who hesitated a little more and looked around him.

“What is it?” Dante muttered to the djinn.

Roy looked over his shoulder, his single eye darting around and examining the space behind and over them. He then glanced back up and ahead of them, his eye skimming along walls as they went up, floor to floor.

“I don't know,” he started quietly, “but it feels…”

Another, more intense tremor interrupted him and Tess clung to Dante with a small gasp, still staring behind them nervously. Roy looked more alarmed by the minute.

“This isn't an earthquake. It’s the building. But it’s not a structural issue. It’s—“

A loud sound, like the cracking of a rock came from below, the hall they'd just left behind. They all froze. Stone crumbled below. After that, there was a long, eerie silence...until Tess peered over the edge of the staircase and down below.

“Look!” she gasped.

Dante glanced down over the edge. There was… something squirming below them, in the dark. Like thick mud. It seemed kind of reflective, but as he squinted a little, he thought he could see faintly glowing, small lights. He strained his ears a bit and heard soft, splashing noises, like thick muck being stirred.

And then he heard the moans. 

“What on earth—“ Roy muttered, and then looked up at the walls surrounding them. “This is not good! _Run_!” he grunted suddenly.

Before Dante could ask why, he looked up and saw for himself. Not only was that mass below them surging really fast up the stairwell, it was starting to ooze out of the walls around them. Tess let a squeak as some of that ooze clung to her shoe and she pulled her foot away.

Puddles of that dark, indescribable substance were rising from the floor, squirming through the walls and dripping from the ceiling. It was neither water, nor mud. It was a strange substance, something between thick water and smoke; it looked neither dry nor wet. Dante’s hackles stood straight up and he knew it in his gut that whatever this was, it was _plenty demonic._ And it felt familiar. The sounds it made, growing ever louder in his ears, were the most bizarre. He heard strange, groaning noises, like many people stuck together, heaving and gasping.

They almost sounded like words.

“Run—don't just stand there, _run_!” Roy called, grabbing both by the arms and urging them to run.

“Th-this thing—I can hear voices in that thing!” Tess stuttered, squirming away from it.

Dante put his arm around her as she bumped into him. He couldn’t help but stare at that bizarre thing coming at them. It gave him a chill down his spine and when Roy gave the order, he didn’t even bother to question it. He ushered Tess ahead as they all started a quick pace up the stairwell. The ooze gave off a foul odour that made Dante’s skin crawl for its faint familiarity. It smelled like mildew, like decay – it smelled like death and yet at the same time it smelled of the Underworld, sharp and scorching.

“What the hell is this thing!?” he asked.

“I don’t know!” Tess stuttered. “It… it might be a haunting! A gestalt.”

Dante blinked. “What?”

“Remember when I said a lot of people…had died here?” she panted. “It’s them! Everything they felt about…dying here – and the just killed a great demon right in the crux of their suffering! They felt it…it reached out—Chax reached out as he was dying and twisted them into this! It’s…a single and hundreds of entities at once.”

That explanation didn’t help things and Dante growled quietly at the sound that the tortured mass of souls was making. It grated him in a different way than the presence or challenge of demons. He ground his teeth irritably as they ran up the staircase. Roy’s less than cool-headed look, as he kept glancing back to make sure the two were following him, was not helping matters, either. He cast anxious looks at the mass that was now surging and actually had begun following them like a giant slug, rapidly skidding up the stairs.

“Damn everything!” Roy snarled. “We’ll be stuck with this entity – it’ll take either destroying the building or exorcising them all at once but we haven’t got the means—“

“The building—“ Tess choked. “No, Roy, they might—“

They were nearly at the top of the stairs. They’d almost made it but it happened too suddenly to stop. The mass of tortured souls caught up with them and dozens of grasping hands stretched from it, groping ahead for anything they might latch onto. Fatigue had worn them all down, Tess even more so. She lagged and in her exhaustion she got careless. Her foot slipped on a step and she stumbled, enough for a hand to close around her ankle. She yelped at the contact and then shouted as she fell forward – she barely managed to put her hands out and break her fall before her face hit the steps. The grasping hand tightened around her leg and pulled her backwards suddenly, making her scream.

The intense, unbearable emotions trapped by those tormented, struggling souls reached out like toxic, choking fug and overwhelmed her. Tess felt them tugging at the edges of her conscious and her vision and the sheer dread she experienced from them paralyzed her.  More hands reached out of the mass and grasped for her, seizing her legs and pulling her backwards. They snaked around her waist and reached further up, pulling her slowly ever closer to the main mass. Faces began to emerge and then submerge in the surface of the gestalt, the voices getting louder and more desperate. Their eyes glowed white, empty and dead and mouths gaped open in frozen, silent screams of agony.

Dante almost slid off the landing in his haste to stop and turn around for her. The tremors of the building weren’t stopping. He drew Rebellion from his back and rushed down for her. He hacked at the ghastly hands reaching up for him, mercifully finding that Rebellion could push them back, but only temporarily. The sword went through them, pulling them this way and that way like smoke, but not finding anything solid to strike. Its demonic properties didn’t seem to do anything to them.

Tess shouted weakly, struggling in the hold of so many hands. She felt herself sinking inside the mass like thick, murky water. She tried to use fire, but all she could produce were weak little sparks that did nothing. She panicked, clawing at the steps in front of her for purchase an effort to escape. Concentrating on reality got harder and harder. The mass started dragging her backwards and Dante grew desperate. He pulled out Ebony and tried a charged shot, as reckless as that was.

Nothing. The mass absorbed the bullets and the power like so much greedy foam.

Her hand slipped from the railing that she tried to hold onto and suddenly Dante abandoned all form of attack and instead lunged forward, grabbing hold of her forearm. He gasped; this thing was trying to forcefully tear her away from him and Dante reached out with both hands to keep his hold on her without hurting her. He hissed sharply and glanced down. The mass was starting to surge around his legs and its touch stung like freezing ice. 

“Goddammit…” he growled. “Tess!” he snapped, seeing her dazed.

She stared back, with eyes wide with fright but evidently doing her best to resist the gestalt and trying to climb away with a desperate grip on his arm.

“It’s trying to possess me!” she shrieked.

Dante grit his teeth and dug his feet into the slippery floor for leverage, knowing she couldn’t resist forever but unable to properly employ his full strength without fear of hurting Tess.

As the gestalt’s mass surged around his legs and trapped him too, Dante felt the temperature dropping rapidly. He started feeling the pressure of this thing’s trapped emotions. They pressed against him like an infection with nothing but a thin gauze seemingly between him and it. He felt as though he was teetering on an edge and if he allowed it, the despair and anguish of the gestalt was going to surge forth – and it would be too much for either of them.

They would die just from the suffocation of so much pain.

The stairs shook again and Dante looked over his shoulder to Roy. He was forced to stop at the top of the stairs just above them, unable to step further down from intensity of the rumbling. Debris was crumbling down around them and he seemed hesitant to tax the staircase even more.

“Dante! Don't let go of her! Whatever happens don't let go of her arm!” he managed to shout.

Another tremor shook the stairs and Roy was forced to brace against the railing beside him and drop to a knee lest he fell over.

“What am I, stupid!?” Dante barked back, struggling to keep his hold on Tess’ arm.

Entire torsos pushed out of the mass by now and Dante could recognize tortured people, twisted by this miasma that bound them all together. The sheer mindless fury of this thing, driven by the residual will and frustration of the dead demon was rumbling the very building. A hand grabbed at Dante's thigh, while a glob of mass flooded under him, pulling him in. Tess yelped when a torso emerged and wrapped its arms around her waist. She struggled, kicking and screaming to pull herself towards Dante, trying to free her other arm.

The mass surged up the stairs, piling and piling like a giant head rearing from the writhing bodies. It actually opened a maw, revealing endless darkness and two lethal points of pale light along with a slit grin, all fangs.

 _“Chiiiiildreeeeeen….”_ It crooned in a low, horrible croak.

The mass pulsed and the points of light grew closer. The grin parted into a sickening light, silent and grey. Dante’s eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth – he felt his gums ache as his canines started to swell again.

“You…” he snarled.

Something that _might_ have been Chax once, or still was or maybe never had really been, stared out. Maybe it was the demon, maybe it was just his will, echoing after death, latching onto the dead.

 _“Giiiiiiivvveeeee meeeee…”_ it intoned.

Dante wanted to say something snappy but all that came out of his chest was a snarl.

“Dante!” Roy shouted. “That thing! Strike it down! It’s exposed itself, you can hurt it!”   

The grin parted more and the light wriggling behind it stretched out, oozing, vague and _hungry._ Tess screamed. Dante rushed forward, arm around her and stabbed forth with the sword.

“GIIIIIIIIIIVEEEEEEE” the gestalt howled, shaking the entire building.

The demonic sword sliced at the squirming and pulsing light as the main body of the gestalt surged forward, pulling them both closer into itself.

Dante’s fixed snarly parted for a deep, angry _“NO.”_

He swung the sword again, jamming it into the ‘mouth’ before him, forcing it in until it would go no further even as the substance creeped up his face. His crimson aura sparked violently, the blade almost thrumming with the will directing it. The malevolent points of light shrank then expanded as if in shock and a sound like shattering glass, over and over until it grew into a droning noise. The ‘core’ shuddered helplessly and every single trapped soul seemed to scream all together until the pitch and volume became unbearable. Dante pushed the sword in, twisting it and at the same time, tightened his grip on Tess and succeeded in pulling her closer.

“Hold on,” he growled. “I’m not letting them take you.”

Feeling her grab at his arm with her hand, locking their grip on each other, was the best response she could’ve made and she tried to push herself away from the gestalt’s grip, holding onto him.

A loud scream rose above them all, like steel nails dragged over glass, deafening to the point of hurting their eardrums. The building shook violently and Dante heard the crack of walls and the snapping of metal. The dark mass suddenly convulsed, spiking up as if in complete pain and began thrashing. Its motions were erratic and violent, almost twitching like a seizing heart. Dante felt its grip on him loosening and tightening in turns as if its strength was waning. Tess managed to free herself a little more and grabbed onto Dante’s shoulder as his arm locked around her waist. He pulled Rebellion away from the core and heard a screech of tortured metal – he quickly grabbed hold of Tess with both arms to help her pull away.

The violent thrashing of the mass actually shunted them both backwards and onto the staircase violently – Dante grunted as the stairs bit into his back and Tess jolted against his chest with a groan. The gestalt reared back onto itself, still screaming with a thousand mouths and writhing like a ballooning heart. The whole stairwell rocked violently like a boat caught in a storm. Dante was still struggling to stand when the staircase simply crumbled under them.

The gestalt began falling through the crumbling staircase into the void below as the concrete of the entire structure broke apart rapidly. Dante kept his hold on Tess as they pushed up and attempted to outpace the crumbling stairs. Suddenly there was nothing under him and he felt themselves falling through the breaking staircase. There was nothing he could do, short of finding some edge to grab onto or drawing his sword again and trying to dig into the walls to slow their fall into the darkness—

And then an arm grabbed his. There was a grunt and the fall stopped suddenly. He looked up to find Roy, half hanging off the remaining edge of the stairs, grabbing onto the railing still left. He’d sprawled himself on the landing and reached down, practically plunging in after them. He was slipping and for a few tense moments Dante held his breath and tightened his grip on Tess’ waist as Roy struggled to find proper purchase with crumbling concrete and dust precipitating over the edge.

The old man groaned, the one-armed grip straining him but he didn’t let go. Dante could feel the vice of a grip holding onto them but never complained. Tess hung unto Dante, babbling in a panic. Her arms were latched around his neck and her legs nearly locked around his waist comically.

“Damn…!” Roy grunted quietly.

“Holy shit, Roy…” Dante mumbled.

Next came the hard part, climbing back out of there. Below them the noises of impact continued for a while, as did the multiple screaming. Somehow they managed to get out, first by leveraging Tess up and then both she and Roy heaved Dante out. Neither could really relax – or stop shaking – until they’d backed well away from the staircase and onto solid ground. They all sighed in relief but Dante couldn’t find it in himself to let go of Tess’ hand.

“Hurry, we need to get out. I’ve no idea if that thing will stay down for the count – and I don’t care to find out if the structure will hold!” Roy growled and pushed them forward so they all started to job – they were too exhausted to run properly.

The rest of the building was quiet, all trashed hallways and empty rooms, must smaller and less sinister than it had been when they entered – this was likely its normal state, not the twisted version Chax had created. Roy was hot on their heels, limping and breathing hard. The shaking started again; the whole building rumbled with the squirming of what was left of the gestalt.

“The hell are we gonna do about this, old man!?” Dante barked. “I don’t get what that thing is but Chax is in it—“

“His will and frustration, more likely!” Roy panted briskly. “The rest of it is the will of the dead trapped here! If this thing escapes the confines of the structure that created it, who knows what it could do. It might devour the city!”

“So now what!?”

“If the building were destroyed—“ the djinn managed. “With the locus of its torment gone it should disperse safely—“

“Great! How’re we gonna destroy the building?! You got any fucking dynamite in your pocket, old man!?” Dante snarled.     

They blindly ran down hallways, much more straightforward and easily navigable than the ones they’d met on their way in. They had to vault over, duck under or around fallen debris all the time. Roy herded them towards the true entrance of the building.

“I’ll… I’ll do it… I think…” Tess uttered between hard breaths.

“How, Twig!?” Dante snapped. “You’re in pieces, even you can’t blow up a building right no—“

 _“I’ll do it!”_ she snapped back at him.

They burst out of the front doors easily – the doors, once boarded over and bolted, lay in pieces inside the lobby they opened into, likely Roy’s work. The building shivered around them and somewhere far back, there was a whining groan. They made it halfway down the hill the place was built on and stopped. Tess wrenched herself free of Dante’s hold and turned to face the building. She was breathing hard and studied the structure. Dante stopped and saw her raise her arms in front of her as if she were trying to visualize something. He _felt_ the sparking of her power even before he could see it. He felt it travel, reaching out invisibly and then he saw the blooming of flame inside one of the windows of the building but it died down depressingly quickly.

Tess tried one more time but the fire… seemed to sluggishly ignite just in front of the building with a loud puff before dying out and Tess almost keeled over.

“Dammit, Twig, you’re being fucking reckless. You’re exhausted—“ Dante grunted and stooped over her.

She slapped his hands away. “Shut up, I need to do this!” she snapped and tried once more.

This time there was a somewhat bigger flame, belching out of one of the windows on the side, licking along the structure but still nothing particularly explosive. There was a rumble and some windows blew outwards. She almost fell to her knees this time, breathing hard.

“It’s not taking,” Roy said with alarm.

“Dammit… I really… am spent,” she whimpered. “I can’t… I can’t reach deep enough. I can’t make it strong enough.”

Dante stared at her then looked up at the building. He narrowed his eyes. He suddenly parted his lips as something dawned on him. He could _feel_ the demonic root still squirming in the root of this problem. He somehow knew _exactly_ where the problem lay. And he thought about the rush of power in his veins when she gave his sword her fire. That had all been him. He took that spark she gave him and fed it on his demonic power and made it good and _nasty._ She was out of stamina and out of strength. He had vast supplies of both, he just needed the _spark_.

He grabbed her hand to pull her up to her feet.

“I’ll do it, then. I know where it is. Give me the fire Twig, I’ll set it where it needs to go,” he said.

She blinked up at him. “Wha…?”

“My guns, Twig. Light me,” he said and smirked. “I’ll blow the top off this fucking place.”

She seemed to comprehend but it made her worry suddenly. “But—if it backfires—“

“Do it.”

She blinked a few times – she had been on the verge of crying again – and nodded. The building trembled. A slow, creeping crack came from the structure, beyond the small fires ignited and there was violent smashing.

Dante drew his guns from under his coat. He had to give in to the persistent tugging in the back of his head, he let his demonic side wake up again. His arms started to tingle and then crackle as power gathered and coiled like a spring wound to a breaking point. Tess gulped and he felt and heard her trying to start the spell but it wasn’t taking.

“Damn… it’s—it’s different with the guns, I can’t—“ she muttered.

She suddenly reached out and embraced him, pressing against him and grabbed his wrist.

Dante started, seeing the crackle of his demonic energy suddenly increase. “Hey—Twig, no, don’t touch—“

“Quiet, this is the only way it’ll work!” Tess snapped at him. “If we all blow up it’s gonna be your fault!”

She started to speak the spell again, the words coming weaker than previously but still scorching. Dante felt the sparking course through him. It surged through his body and settled in his chest. It felt so good, travelling through him, roiling in his blood and growing as he fed it more power. It bubbled up in him like a warming drink, just even more so and ten times more intoxicating. A greedy smile spread over his face. She was giving him this power and he took it, he wanted more and more.

He inhaled sharply and almost regretted it. His senses had grown incredibly sensitive and he was suddenly all too alive to her presence. She smelled _good_. She smelled of blood and battle – there was a fresh cut on her face, not to mention the deeper gash in her hand from earlier. He smelled _her_ blood and it smelled… delicious. He gulped.  

Suddenly he wrapped one arm around her, still holding the gun and pointed the other at the building. She was sagging against him and breathing hard, he could feel her breathing against his shirt; doing this was taking a lot out of her on top of everything she’d been through. He nearly pressed his nose into her hair to inhale deeply. His teeth felt sharp, his nails grew sharp—

His eyes were sharp.

The power gathered in him was tremendous; he could feel it bursting out of him in soft sparks and flickers of flame along his arm. The gun crackled violently with power.

“Dante—“

“Ready?” he muttered.

She gave a nervous nod.

Her hand on his wrist was warm. For once, his hands were cold. The building above them shuddered again. From the front doors he could see shadows gathering, the flicker of lights, the writhing. He unclenched his fangs.

He spoke again, very gently, “On my mark. Hang on now.”

He adjusted his aim just a little and tried not to breathe. But she smelled so delicious.

“Three."

She drew in a shaky breath. His heart beat faster, the power gathered in him now feeling unbearable. Close to bursting. He felt lightheaded.

“Two.”

Her grip on his wrist trembled with anticipation and fear. He found it harder to concentrate, trying not to listen to her breathing. The writhing shadows grew deeper at the door.

“One.”

His smirk grew wide, sinister. His senses were on fire. He almost licked his lips in excitement.

“Boom~”

He pulled the trigger.

It was like letting go of a massive weight at the end of a rope. All the fire, fed on demonic energy, under pressure, gathered at the tip of the gun and with only one way out, went off loudly. It launched outwards with the brightness and ferocity of an angry star and a roar like a furious dragon. Dante could swear he heard a small whistle coming from Roy and Tess yelped. The kick from the shot was powerful enough to make Dante stumble backwards while Tess pulled her hand close to her chest and whimpered painfully, shaking it vigorously.

The thunderous din echoed through the day-break. The shot had a trailing tail of dancing flames in its wake and travelled straight for the writhing shadows at the doors. The ground it passed over was deeply scorched and it dipped into the darkness, where it _burst._ Light, flames and searing heat spread through the building and Dante felt it travelling everywhere. He chased down that vague feeling of the darkness trying to retreat into the depths and he wouldn’t let it.

The rest happened very fast; first was the flash, a blinding light coming from the openings of the building, peeking through the boarded over doors and windows. Dante grabbed Tess by the waist and they pulled away in a hurry when the thrust-wave came along. It hit with a deafening roar and jolted them, followed by the blasting roar of a serious explosion and the flame-tongues, lashing out in the wake of the eruption. The ground shook.

Dante grinned when he felt it all find home. The crux of the problem.

And boy, did it take.

The flames jumped out any opening they could find and then erupted through shattering windows, breaking any boards nailed over them. The fire ballooned outwards, towards them, but Tess stretched her shaking arm out.

“Go back inside,” she muttered tiredly. “Back inside… burn everything down. Everything… everything.”

Dante watched the fire turn back into the building – he felt her take control and guide it, almost like a caress of her hand – though it needed little help anyway. He could sense the fire, sparks travelling along walls, floors, catching anywhere they could, along piping and walls, any flammable surface they could find. He could hear the crack and grind of walls. The whine of old wood. The pop of strained joints.

The brunt of the blast was contained within the thick walls of the former prison, the weaker portions falling in and through it, the roof collapsing first. Glass and debris flew outwards but they were pretty well clear of any falling rubble.

Dante put his guns away in a hurry to support Tess who seemed to be struggling to stand and breathed hard. Roy came up behind them and looked strangely pleased when Dante looked up at him, his hands on his waist.

“Very impressive,” he chortled. “You worried me for a moment. I think it’s working. Oh, listen.”

He held up his hand, finger pointed upwards and tilted his head to listen. Dante blinked and he could hear the distinct noises of crumbling stone, thuds and ear-piercing creaking and groaning. The building started to sag.

“That’s called…structural supports saying _adieu,_ permanently,” Roy cackled.

Large tongues of fire and thick black smoke began to escape from wherever they could, consuming the wretched building. Dante felt Tess lean against him, breathing and gently squeezed her shoulder. His nails were starting to shrink, fortunately. He’d never seen flames take hold so fast and suspected some of it was Tess’ doing. It… felt good watching this place go down.

“Ah, it’s working,” Tess said tiredly, looking up. “The gestalt… is dissipating.”

Dante squinted but all he could see were faint, strange wisps escaping the building along with the smoke. He glanced down at Tess. She looked depressed and by the way her eyes flitted about he felt she was following something with her gaze. She likely could see a lot more than he could.

“They’re free now, at last…” she muttered.

He smiled wryly. “Huh… guess that’s one thing off my bucket list,” he said quietly. “Saving dead people.”

Tess chuckled weakly. Roy put his hand on Dante’s shoulder.

“Come on. We should leave,” he said quietly.

Dante didn’t like how pale she looked when they turned and with Roy at their heels, started a quick walk out of the former asylum’s grounds. Dante kept supporting her but as they got further from the place, she seemed to regain some of her strength.

Dawn was just breaking and the city basked in the morning chill and dew. Even then Dante could tell that their act had a profound effect on the city. It felt…lighter, somehow, like a weight had been peeled back from it. The air felt cold but crisp and unfailingly sweet.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Roy asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Dante said awkwardly.

“Won’t be without consequences, though,” the djinn said, troubled. “This is quite the message to send into the Underworld – and believe me, someone’s bound to have felt Chax dying. Beaten by children, no less.”

He glanced at Dante and smiled wryly. “You pipsqueaks are starting to scare me.”

“P-pipsqueaks!?” Tess protested.

Dante chortled. “Aw, that’s just payback for callin’ him old.”

Even so… as they slowed down at last, something preyed on his mind. “Hey, Roy…” he said. “Are you… are you guys gonna take off now?”

Tess suddenly froze and became very quiet. She shrugged defensively, while Roy looked down and away. Right as her hand slipped away from his, Dante knew the answer to his question and his heart sank.

He didn’t expect to feel so beside himself, really. He hadn’t truly realized how much this feeling of comfort in human contact had grown in him since he started living with them. He’d grown accustomed to it. But now that it was being taken away he realized just how deep it had gotten. He had not known such warmth and sense of belonging since his family was lost. And now… he had to give it up yet again? All he had to look forward to was a life of vagrancy, _yet again._ Being an outcast among humans, unwanted and apart.

He was angry. He whipped around and although he wound his arm to punch the wall he happened to be standing near, thought better of it and just leaned against it, hanging his head.

“Great…” he muttered. “Fucking great… we save the day and you’re gonna bail on me—“

Tess grabbed him by the arm to turn him around. “Dante—stop that. You think I want to leave?!” she said. “But I have to. You don’t… you don’t understand covens. They’d make me… choose.”

He couldn’t help glaring at her, feeling betrayed. “Then why—“

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d fight it,” she said quietly. “I know what you’re like. You’re… you’re a little slow on the uptake but when you do, you figure out everything. You never listen.”

He grunted at that accusation. “Tess…”

She wouldn’t look up at him. “They wouldn’t let me stay—they’d take me back by force if they had to, now that the agreement’s made.”

Dante just got angrier. He swatted her hand from his arm and loomed over her. “You don’t get it! Quit trying to make excuses about this!” He got in her face. “All this time… I’ve been trying not to get attached and yet here I fucking am! You made me like you and now I’m stuck with it!”

He actually smacked his fist against the wall weakly. “And now you’re just gonna run off.”

Against all odds, he felt his eyes sting and glaze over, so he turned away before Tess could see. But she yanked him back around angrily.

“You think I don’t know?! You think I’m _blind!?_ ” she barked. “You think I don’t feel the same, you fucking moron!?”

Dante was startled. She still wouldn’t look at him and he thought she might even start to cry. “I’m trying to fucking protect you!” she snapped. “I know what covens are like. If I try to stay they’ll come for me and—and—if I took you with me, they’d just _use_ you!”

“I don’t—“ Dante stammered. “I’m not scared about a bunch of freakin’ witches trying to tell me what to—“

“No, you would because I know what you’re like! They’d play _me_ as a bargaining chip because they’d know you like me! It’s your weakness, dammit!” she insisted. “They’re ruthless like that! They have to be – it’s how witches survive, you’ve seen what demons want from us! They won’t care about who you are, dammit. Only as far as it suits them. It’s all duplicity and schemes—“

She whipped around to Roy who had been trying to stand back and give them privacy. “Tell him!”

Roy’s shoulders sagged. “She’s not lying, Dante. Nor are we exaggerating. The wiccans of the Rosengard coven are not a lot you want to mess with. They _will_ use Tess to manipulate you for whatever purposes they see fit. They _aren’t evil_ but this is simply how covens work. That’s how they survive.”

He shook his head. “We… we’re part of that kind of life already. We know how to deal with it. And Tess… needs to join the coven. They’re the only ones who can teach her now that Magda’s dead – I promised Magda I would see to this because it’s the only way. You hold no importance to witches now, Dante. You’ll be nothing but a tool. And I, for one, don’t want to see that happen. You’re _safer_ on your own than Tess is.”

Tess finally looked up at him and she was trying not to cry. “I knew this would’ve happened,” she said quietly. “I knew that this… this good thing – us – I knew it wouldn’t last. It never does. I saw it… I saw it when we did that stupid Tarot reading. And I tried to find a way to stop it but it happened anyway.”

She covered her face with her hands and Dante suddenly wanted to hug her. “I don’t want to leave but I have to! You dumb-ass!” she whimpered and punched his chest weakly until her fists rested there in exhaustion and she hung her head. “I tried…I couldn’t change this, like I can’t change anything… I’m cursed, godammit—I see things coming and I can’t stop them! I don’t want to go!”

She leaned into his chest and started to cry, unable to contain herself any longer. She cried in sobs and her shoulders were quaking so much that Dante felt the need to hug her and she wrapped her arms around him, crying quietly in his chest. He let a drawn breath, looking down at her.

“You’re right…” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I know—I know we both—changed. You turned my life into a mess and I’m—I’m glad you did. I didn’t…I didn’t realize how truly lonely I was. You pulled me out of it with your—your teasing and your—your stupid jokes. And I didn’t—appreciate how good it feels until now that I have to go—“

She hiccupped and he squeezed her against him lightly. “I have—I have to let you go or they’ll—they’ll ruin you. I have to be alone again—and I’m scared!! I’m scared I’ll never—I’m scared I’ll die all alone. I’m not scared of demons anymore but that scares me!”

Dante bit his lip. He wanted to pretend that everything she said wasn’t affecting him, he wanted to still be angry at her and shout and argue… but it hardly seemed to matter. He squeezed her close again and tried to maintain his composure but tears were welling up in his eyes. He wasn’t… as far from crying as he’d wanted.

“Dammit, Tess,” he grunted.

“If—if I let go of you now, I’ll know you’ll be fine. You’re…you’re amazing, you know?” she said. “It’s kinda scary, really, how strong I think you’ll get. I mean, in a good way. But others… might not see it like that. That’s what I’m afraid of. And I don’t want to let that happen. I’m sorry. You can’t… you can’t change my mind. I need to _protect you—_ don’t you dare make this any harder on me than it is.”

He felt her break down against his chest and all he could do was hold onto her, well-aware he was about to lose this feeling. The simple fact he could hold her. But he couldn’t accept it. He shook his head in silent denial even as his eyes stung and tears started streaming down his cheeks.

“That’s not true,” he mumbled. “We’d be…we’d be fine if you stayed. Hey you know… I’ve been thinking for a while. I should set up a damn business hunting demons. With… an office and all. You would…be my partner, right? I’d even let you pick the name, Twig.”

Tess said nothing, just choked a sob and a little, sad laugh. Roy forced a cry smile, putting his hand on Dante’s shoulder.

“It sounds like it will suit you very well, you know,” he said, trying not to sound sad.

He loathed that deep down, he understood perfectly well. He always knew that his life being plagued by demons was an inevitability. He was _drawn_ to them as much as they were prone to flocking to him. And he knew that now they’d never leave her alone, either. Unlike him…she wasn’t ready for this kind of life, yet. Yes, she had Roy to look after her, but he could only ever do so much, especially if she would have to worry about disgruntled wiccans too. It made sense.

He _would_ be fine, on his own. He always had been. He always kept people at a distance, anyway, to protect them from the demons always stalking him.

From his own demonic heritage.

How was what she was doing now any different?

But it hurt so much.

“Roy…when do you need to leave?” he asked, trying not to let his mind wander to wild alternative solutions.

Roy looked away blankly. Dante thought he _might_ have been trying to fight off tears. “Soon. She needs to be at the coven by tomorrow or the deal is off. Listen… they don’t know about you. And they never will, not from Tess, not from me. That way, they won’t have their eye on you,” he said. He finally looked back at the teenager. He seemed so frustrated. “Dante…I’m so sorry. It’s all we can do. You two will need to parted for a long time – I can’t tell how long, I can’t even think about it. And it all must stay a secret. Where we go and where you go. Neither of us can know. That way, they can’t get it out of us.”        

Dante just grumbled a curse quietly and brought his hand up to stroke Tess’ hair. He might never get to do it again.

“I need you to listen to me,” Roy said, making Dante look up again.

He sounded very serious but also strangely fatherly. Dante felt he’d miss hearing it, too.

“Tess has a point, about you. You’ve proven that you’re strong and skilled, that you can take on the worst the Underworld can throw at you. And that’s _good._ You’ll grow into your power but until you do, the less of a target you have on your back, the better.”

Tess finally looked up from crying into his chest. “I’ve caused you enough trouble to last you a lifetime. I can’t hide behind you or Roy forever. I want to take some fucking control of my life, even if it has to be this way.”

Dante scoffed in frustration. “Trouble, Twig? Your problems are my problems too,” he said sharply.

She grabbed him by the lapels angrily. “No. Not this time. You’ve done enough for me. I’m—I’m going to come back. I don’t care what it takes, but I will,” she said angrily, but then she put her hand up and touched his cheek. “And you… better be worth it, you hear me? Don’t stay a punk forever.”

He smiled stiffly. “You’re tellin’ me to trust a witch?” he said bitterly.

It was a terrible joke on his part but he just felt so overwhelmed. She glared at him momentarily then reached back around her neck and took off her necklace. Come to think of it, she always wore that, he thought absently. A silver circle with a triple moon pattern worked into it and a black stone set in the middle, hanging by a thick black string. She grabbed his hand and made his fist close around it.

“Here. Some insurance,” she said. “My…dad made it for my mom. You wanna be sure I’ll come back, then _you_ hold onto it. When I come back…you better still have it. Or I’ll punch your teeth out. Got it?” she went on, sharply.

Dante startled, staring at the trinket in his hand and at her. “Wait, wha—no, wait, you can’t gimmie something this important—“

“Shut up and take it. Keep it with you. I’ll be… I’ll be fine without it,” Tess muttered.

His fist closed around it tight; it was warm from resting against her skin for so long and he wished it could keep that warmth forever but he knew it in his gut it would also _hurt_ to hold onto it. He nodded silently and realized he never did appreciate how green her eyes were. He wouldn’t see them again.

“Look at you, crying already. Don’t do that,” she said softly, reaching up and wiping some tears gently. “Isn’t it enough that I’m crying?”

Dante jolted a bit as she did that. “I’m not crying—“ he protested. “Demons don’t cry.”

“Yeah, neither do witches,” she replied weakly.

Roy grunted and Dante saw him wiping his eye. “I’m…going to miss you too, son.”

“Me too, old man,” Dante muttered.

“Listen, I know you don’t want to hear it but I have some advice.”

Dante grunted. “C’mon, not now—“

“No, no, this is for your thick skull,” the djinn grunted and actually plopped his hand on Dante’s head. “I know how you feel about your demonic side. But I think… the more you avoid facing it, the harder it will be for you. I have faith that you’ll find a way to sort it out. You’re far more human than some people I’ve met – and I’ve known many. You… you know _regret_. As hard as it is, it keeps you grounded.”

Roy ruffled Dante’s hair gently and then put his hands in his pockets. “Keep your head together, going forward. I hope to see you again and when I do, I’m going to be expecting to see something impressive, alright? No screwing up.”

Dante chuckled tiredly. “You got it old man. I guess I should thank you for the talks. Don’t get killed. How about some fucking privacy now?”

Roy blinked at him, then barked out a laugh and smacked Dante’s shoulder affectionately. He nodded.

“I’ll wait at the corner. Don’t start making out too hard,” he scoffed and walked away, unwinding the bandage around his head to redress it.

“Fuck off…” Dante mumbled.

Tess snorted quietly.

Dante glanced around warily for a moment at the empty street. He could hear the tentative chirps of birds and the beginning of a lazy morning bustle in the city.

“Listen, Tess… I’m not good with, uh, this stuff,” he said. “I think you’re really scary when you mean it and, uh, I’m gonna miss you so I—“

She reached up on her toes, put her hands on the sides of his face to draw him down and kissed him, silencing him in the most acceptable way he could think of. It was… different than their kisses so far. She pressed her lips on the side of his mouth, as if she wasn't sure whether to kiss his cheek or his lips. Then she pulled back, like a quiet butterfly and paused on his lips. It was soft but weighted down by that bitter-sweet sense of impending separation. Their foreheads touched.

“You don’t need to say it,” she said with a smile. “You’re _really_ not good at mushy talk.”

He frowned. “…You’re cruel, Twig. How can I forget ya, now?”

She looked unbearably sad but trying to hold it together. “I’m sorry.” Then she poked his stomach a bit. “Don’t… overdo it with the pizza and ice creams. You’ll be tubby by the time I get back,” she chuckled.

He snorted. “And you better put some meat on those bones,” he said, trying to sound teasing.

But it really was pointless. They couldn’t laugh.

“I…I should go,” she said weakly.

Dante clicked his tongue. “Right…”

“Dante… Do me a last favour. Turn now and walk away. I'll do too. Go back to the building. Your stuff should still be there. But please...walk away and _don't look back_. I don’t… I don’t want the last thing you remember of me is me leaving, ok?”

He grumbled a vague affirmative. He knew that if she hadn’t asked, he might as well have spent the whole time watching her walk away and he wasn’t certain he would’ve been able to keep his cool about that. She really did know what he was like.

There was no point in prolonging their agony. They mutually parted and he turned around.

“See you later, Twig,” he muttered.

“See you around, Schnozz,” she replied and he heard the scuffing of her shoes on the pavement. Her voice shook.

He started walking away, staring blankly ahead of him at the growing light of dawn as it crept over the city skyline. He had to force his stupid enhanced senses from trying to pick out the sounds that would’ve indicated when she was gone. But it happened anyway. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on what tipped him off; it just happened. From one moment to the next he knew she was gone. Against her request, at the end of the block he whipped around and saw nothing but a perfectly empty street.

He swallowed down the jumble of feelings warring in him and went on his way. He felt himself walking, but his mind wasn’t there. He was busy picking up the pieces. He failed to notice the silence had broken, the spell placed on the city coming apart. People were in the streets; sirens of police cars and fire engines were heading towards the still burning asylum. He scoffed a little at that. He just kept walking, his hands in his pockets. It was a solid half hour before he got back there, where it all had started.

The wrecked boarding house looked so lonely in the morning light when he stopped in front it. The neighbourhood hadn’t yet noticed the devastation it’d suffered so he ought to be safe from prying eyes for now. He looked up at it. So many good memories, really. They actually outweighed the bad ones, even if the good ones still hurt already. He could see the window that had once been his own and if he craned his neck towards the alley between the boarding house and the next building over, the window that had been Tess’ room. He looked away from it abruptly and trudged inside, feeling emptier than the building was.

He smirked a bit, finding his few belongings packed and ready to go, where Roy’s counter had once stood. A note was pinned on his rucksack and he picked it up to read it; Roy’s handwriting. He chuckled, reading the brief lines. Roy left him a bundle of cash and a threat about ‘keeping his rear end out of trouble’.

 _“Typical Roy,”_ he thought, reading it. _“Always worrying about people, jeez. That cat’s worse than a doting dad.”_

He was ready to go, really. He stuffed Rebellion in the guitar case once more, slung it over his back and then picked up the backpack, hauled it over his shoulder and absently looked back into the building. His thoughts wandered to the time he got here. He saw Roy sitting at the front desk, doing paperwork; Magda sailing morbidly through the hallway, indignant but accepting. Tess’ gaze pierced his back from the front door as she leaned against it. Her sly, witty smile was taunting him.

That memory was safely hidden away, right where his mother’s face, her smile and her tender humming was left.

The slayer hung his head with a small smile; he was pathetic, really. Her turned and then walked out the door and down the steps, quickly vanishing around the corner just as the first people made their appearance into the street, attracted by the building’s damages. No one seemed to have noticed him.

It was funny. A demon that saved them walked among them and people never really noticed. He put his hand in his pocket.

Tess’ necklace was still warm and he smiled. _“Better bring me some luck, Twig,”_ he thought, strolling down the street. “ _Now…where can a guy like me find a place to crash in and open a demon-huntin’ business?”_

**THE END.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


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